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ONE WORD MORE 



INTENDED FOR 



THE REASONING AND THOUGHTFUL 



UNBELIEVERS. 



' Then said ho unto mo, Prophesy unto the wind! prophesy! son of man ! and say 
the wind, Thiis saith the Lord God : Come from the four winds, O breath, and 
•cathe upon these slain, that they may live!' Ezekiel, xxxvii : 9. 



BY JOHN NEAL. 




BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, 
47 WASHINGTON STREET. 

1854. 



^ 



SA 






\1 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, b; 

JOHN NEAL, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United Sta 
for the District of Maine. 



.:-a i-en-y, Prim; 



DEDICATION. 



TO Ml DEAE CHILDKEN, 

I LEAVE THIS I 

WITH EARNEST PRAYER; 

UNFALTERING HOPE; 
AND A TEEMBLING FAITH. 

GOD'S WILL BE DOBTDl 

JOHN NEAL 



ONE WORD MORE. 



ALL BEGINNEBS AEE CHILDEEK 

1 Then I said, Ah Lord God ! "behold I cannot speak, 
for I am a child.' Jer. i : 6. 

Was the plea encouraged, or listened to ? Judge for 
thyself, man ! by what follows. 

1 But the Lord said Unto me, Say not I am a child ; 
for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee; and 
whatsoever I command thee, thou shalt speak.' Jer. i: 7. 

As with him, so with all, who are set apart, and sent 
forth, commissioned of their Heavenly Lather. 

Children they must be — or they are never Sons of 
God, nor Prophets, nor Teachers, nor Helpers. 

But in what sense are they to be children ? 

1 Except ye be converted and become as little children' 
saith our Lord and Master, ' ye shall not enter the king- 
dom of Heaven' 

Do we understand this ? Have we weighed it ? Do 
we indeed believe it ? 

Or this ? 

' Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid 
them not ; for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.' 
1 



(J ALL BEGLXXERS ARE CHILDREN. 

Very little children they must have been ; for ' He 
tool- them up in his arms, and blessed them.' 

Let no one hope to be excused therefore : Let no one 
be afraid, nor disheartened, because of littleness, or 
feebleness, or ignorance ; for, instead of being hmdran- 
ces or disqualifications, all these, if tempered with a 
childlike, honest and hearty faith, humility and love, 
are helps and assurances. Not only are they of then- 
=elves great recommendations, if we may put our trust 
in the Saviour himself; but qualifications of so high a 
nature as to be often, if not always, indispensable 

Be comforted therefore ye little ones ; be strengthened 
and hopeful : for, ■ out of the mouth of babes and suck- 
lings hast Th.u ordained strength', says the Lebrew 
Monarch to Jehovah, the Lord of Hosts; or, according 
to Matthew, 'prepared praise."* -" 

Not fa, the Wise and Ivwerful of earth : not to the 
Learned and the lUch ; not even to the Eighteen came 
he: for the Eighteous are the • u-hole\ and they neec 
no physioian-they want no Saviour : but to the SnupK 

Sf understanding and the Helpless; to the Lnlearne 
and the Foolish ; to the Lowly and the 1'oor-m othe 
words, to the many, and not to the few: to the suffer^ 
ndllions of earth, and not to the unsuffering scores 
through all generations. 'For the preaching ef th 
Cross is to them that perish foolishness ; but unto u 
which are saved, it is the power of God. 1 C.r. i ; « 
• But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jew, 
stumbling block, and unto the Greeks ff°>>™°>£ 
unto them that are called, both Jews and Greeks, Gtad 
* Wakefield's Translation. 



ALL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN. 7 

the power of God, and the wisdom of God.' Lb. 23. 
* The foolish things of the world are chosen to confound 
the wise ; and the weak things of the world to confound 
the mighty.' 

How the Saviour himself understood that mission: 
how he estimated the comparative dignity and worth of 
the wonders he wrought, may be safely inferred from the 
following passage. 

( Go tell Juhn,' he says, when asked by the two 
messengers, if they were to look for another — * G-o tell 
John what ye hear and see. The blind receive sight : 
the lame walk : lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear : 
the dead are raised— and the poor have the Gospel 
preached to them. 1 Matt, xi : 4. 

Behold the climax. The blind see ; the lame walk; 
lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear : the dead are 
raised, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them ! 
As if- the last mentioned miracle were the greatest : as 
if calling the dead to life were less than preaching the 
G-ospel to the Poor: as if, up to that hour, from the 
beginning of the world, the Poor had been overlooked 
or forgotten, if not by God himself, by the mightiest of 
G-ol's Interpreters and Teachers : by Priest and Prophet ; 
Lawgiver and Patriarch : as if, to say all in a word, 
their messages, their warnings, their denunciations and 
their prophecies had all been for the mighty and the 
few ; for the Kings, and Princes, and Eulers of Earth, 
and to their children forever. 

'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be 
comforted * * * Blessed are the poor in spirit ■* * * 
Blessed are the meek.' 



8 ALL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN. 

The Mourning, the Poor of Spirit, and the Meek then, 
are the blessed. And who are the blessed, but the 
children of God ? 

But to be children is not enough. "We are to be as 
little children. 

Because, up to a certain point, Learners are the best 
Teachers, and perhaps it were safe to say that the best 
of Teachers are always Learners — or in other words 
always learning. 

Must it not be so, forever and ever, with Angels and 
Archangels ? "With Cherubim and Seraphim, and with 
all the shining ones that help constitute the Hierarchy 
of Heaven ? Else why do they live forever ? 

Why should there not be a system, corresponding 
with the Lancastrian, for spiritual teaching ? for the 
uppermost, as well as for the lower classes of that great 
Sabbath-school which God himself opened in person at 
the Beginning, and established forever, when 'the morn- 
ing stars sang together, and all the Sons of God shouted 
for joy'? 

Must we have Archangels among the regenerated, for 
teaching the alphabet ? Kings and Prophets, and Apos- 
tles and Martyrs, to begin with ? If they, who have 
undergone a spiritual transformation, are to be as little 
children, must they not do whatever they do at all, as 
little children, even to the helping of others ? 

Great masters are never wanted, till they can be 
understood, followed and appreciated. Only those who 
are but a little way ahead of us are the best guides. 
If high up, or afar off, we are disheartened from the 
beginning, and after a while, forgotten, or lost sight of. 



ATL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN. 9 

We do not require a grammarian, a lexicographer, a 
language -master, nor a rhetorician, for the prattler, just 
learning the way to its mother's heart. All their learn- 
ing, and power, and labor, would be worthless. And yet, 
of her, while talking ' baby'; and of its little brothers 
and sisters, while trying to accommodate their language 
to his understanding, however unpalatable or unmeaning 
their gibberish might be to the wise ab^ve what is writ- 
ten, that babe is learning, hour by hour, what all the 
grammarians, and lcxiccgraphcrs, and language-masters, 
and rhetoricians of earth would never be able to teach a 
nursling. Nor would all that they know ever help that 
child one jot or tittle, in pleading with its mother. And 
if not with the mother, why should it help him in 
pleading with his Father ? What power of language 
have they, compared with the lisping and stammering <»f 
that little tongue? What is their rhetoric to the 
rhetoric of nature ? If the babe were to grow eloquent 
according to their notions of eloquence, what would 
become of the mother? Would she not fling it from her 
lap, and run screaming to the neighbor ? And would 
not the Father himself turn away from what others 
might regard as a wonderful prayer, because unfaltering 
and unnatural ? 

Who would think of employing a field-marshal for a 
drill-sergeant ? A Newton, a La Place, or a Kepler for 
teaching the nraltiplication-table ? A Rubens, or a 
West, for the elements of drawing? A Handel, or a 
Mozart, or a Beethoven, for the alphabet of sounds ? Or 
a great Theologian to clear up the thirteenth chapter 
of Matthew ? 

1* 



10 ALL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN, 

Beware of Teachers who- have gone so far, from strength 
to strength ; and so high up, as to have lost the remem- 
brance of earth, and of their first feeble totterings — their 
discouragements, their mistakes, their misgivings and 
their failures ; for how can they be expected to sympa- 
thize with Beginners, or to hold fellowship with little 
children ? 

At best, they are but counsellors ; instead of compan- 
ions, and play -fellows, and helpers : Ballying-ensigns 
upon the mountain-tops, about which, in the hour of 
darkness or dismay, the routed may gather, by climbing 
— and only by climbing — from the valleys below ; they 
are never felt, nor acknowledged, as banners hurrying to 
the rescue, heading the charge, or advancing side by 
side, and always within reach, against the great Adver- 
sary, and his embattled legions. 

Beware of those who wear a heavy annor, and are 
always ' travelling in the greatness of their strength.' 
Seldom indeed have they any just consideration for the 
faint-hearted and weary, for the unarmed or the newly- 
harnessed, who, instead of plunging headlong into the 
tumult and uproar of the conflict, stand apart and afar, 
trembling and quaking, at the thunder of the battle, and 
the shouting of the captains. 

The Mighty and the Wise take too much for granted. 
They assume too much, and they require too much. 
Having mounted so high upon the ladder that Jacob 
saw, reaching from earth to Heaven, and thronged with 
giant shapes, as to be no longer sensible of their own 
progress, though greater than ever ; they are unable to 
make a sufficient allowance for the song? of triumph and 



ALL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN. 11 

exultation they hear coming up from below, over those 
who are hut just beginning to forsake the world ; and 
whose upward progress, for that very reason — because 
they are beginners — and because they are still so much 
nearer earth than Heaven — may be measured by them- 
selves, and by others ; by the multitude below ; by the 
friends who are struggling with them, day after day ; 
and by all who are only a little higher up : though net 
by those, who, after laboring diligently and faithfully 
for many a long year, have got above the clouds. 

All beginners are children. Whatever may be their 
age, their talents, or their learning, as Beginners, like 
St. Paul himself, they are only children, and must be 
dealt with as children. If this great simple truth. 
which lies at the foundation of all our knowledge, be 
overlooked or forgotten, our labor must be unprofitable, 
and our teaching vain. By assuming that Beginners 
know what they do not know, or that a certain order of 
intelligence may venture to disregard, or overleap, the 
elementary principles of any science — the rudiments or 
alphabet of any study — Learners are disheartened, or 
overtasked, and Teachers are disqualified: and all after- 
explanations are misunderstood. 

When Cicero grappled with Greek in his old age ; 
and Dr. Johnson with German toward the end of his 
wayfaring, both began with the alphabet — like little- 
children. There was no other way. So with Alfred, the 
great English Lawgiver, when he undertook the over- 
throw of one power, and the establishment of another, 
among his people. He entered the service of a shepherd, 
he fashioned his own bows, and well nigh ruined all, by 



12 ALL BEGINNERS ARE CHILDREN. 

forgetting that he was ' a little child' and letting the 
cakes burn. But the Lord of Hosts being with him; that 
very oversight saved his life. And so too, when Peter 
the Trrcat of Eussia— great, according to the judgment 
of the world — flung aside the sceptre of a vast and 
powerful empire, and gathered up his kingly robes, and 
came down from a seat • high and lifted up,' to learn the 
trade uf a ship -carpenter, he went away into a far coun- 
try, and enrolled himself among the lowly of Saadam 
— not as the Czar of all the Bussias, but as Peter 
Michaeleff, a common laborer. And Gustavus Yasa. that 
wonder of the giant North, when he forsook the troubled 
earth, and went down into the darkest and deepest 
chambers of Dalecarlia, it was in the same spirit, and 
with the same hope. These mighty monarchs became 
' as little children.' They began at the begriming. 
They were not above their business. They were teach- 
able, trusting, patient, and submissive — not to the 
mighty of earth, but to the weak and the lowly, other- 
wise they might never have been heard cf. They were 
Beginners ; and if they had been dealt with as any thing 
more, or better, how would their dark and trying appren- 
ticeships have prepared them for the thrones they 
afterwards took' possession of? 

Hence the beauty, the wisdom, and the power of that 
injunction so many times repeated by the wisest, and 
lowliest of Teachers — Be ye as little Children ! 



MIRACLES. 13 



MIRACLES. 

What is a miracle ? 

Grant that man hath transgressed. Grant that a 
way was needed to save him from the consequences, 
whatever they were : then, is it not probable — is it 
not indeed certain — that Infinite Wisdom, and Goodness, 
and Power, would contrive a way, not likely to suggest 
itself to the understandings of men ? 

If not — and regeneration were needed, of what advan- 
tage to the Universe, to Man, or to God himself, were the 
unsearchable wisdom, the boundless power, the unspeak- 
able goodness, which, in their mightiest combinations, 
could be fathomed and foreseen, if not forestalled by Man ? 

And if millions of ages were to pass, before the 
ohildren of men should be allowed to see enough, or to 
understand enough, to engage their approbation, why 
should they be troubled ? Has it not been ever so from 
the first ? 

From the first, were not laws established by the 
Builder of the universe, which, after thousands of years, 
are but beginning to be understood by the wisest of 
mankind ? Tolerated age after age, though with many 
a misgiving, by the devout and hopeful, and borne with 
by Philosophers, not because their beautiful adaptation 
was felt, and their fitness acknowledged, but because 
they could not be helped, they are now beginning to be 



14 MIRACLES. 

understood, approved and justified ; and all the plie 
nomena that puzzled our great fathers, in the shape of 
anomalies, or exceptions, are fast arranging themselves 
among the clearest manifestations of unapproachable 
wisdom and foresight ; until much that in other days 
perplexed the ' undevout astronomer', and seriously 
troubled the mightiest of God's worshippers on earth ; 
and many a seeming oversight ; have come to he 
regarded with deep thankfulness and awe, as part of 
a self-sustaining, self-adjusting, and self -compensating 
system, whereby the unchangeable instincts of the uui 
verse are enabled to perpetuate themselves. 

May it not be so hereafter ? 

God's ways are not our ways. Hence we are called 
upon to believe, because we cannot understand. 

To understand, we must be as gods ; but little -chil 
dren may believe. 

And why should we complain of this ? or try to 
understand the conclusions that must follow — as if our 
distinguishing attribute — reason — were dethroned^ or 
affronted ? 

Had we been called upon to understand — instead of 
believing — we might indeed have wondered at the appar- : 
ent unreasonableness of our Father. 

But because, instead of requiring what we know to 
be impossible, so long as we are not omniscient, he has 
been satisfied to require of us only what a little child may 
do. there are those who will not even try to obey him. 

What he is content with demanding of us here, as 
proof that we are willing to be happy on his terns here 
after, is just what we are all doing every day and every 



MIRACLES. 15 

hour, without a sense of degradation or self-reproach, in 
the business of the world. Think of this. . How little 
do we understand of all that we believe upon the repre- 
sentations of others, and because of our faith in man.! 
Shall we have less faith in God ? Shall we take nothing 
upon trust of the incomprehensible Jehovah, who is 
'. past finding out,' when we are always taking so much 
upon trust, at every step of our pilgrimage here, of the 
feeblest, and the falsest, and the shallowest of the sons 
of men ! 

What know we of the feelings, and hopes, and wishes 
of little children, beyond what we are enabled to gather 
from the half-obliterated, or long-forgotten experience 
of our own childhood ? Yet we believe them, where we 
have to depend altogether upon what they tell us, and 
act upon that belief, in questions of life or death. 

Our property, our health, our happiness and our 
character— our very lives — we put in jeopardy every 
hour, not only without understanding, but without even 
wishing to understand, what may be called the very 
ground-works of our trust. Who would venture to cross 
a bridge ; to go on board a ship ; to enter a rail-car; to 
take any drug — or go to law, under any circumstances, 
if the result were to depend, not upon his faith and hope, 
or trust, but upon his knowledge, or understanding ?. 

Is God unreasonable, to require thus much, at least, 
if no more, of his creatures ? 

Well then, Faith we must have — some faith ; but how 
much, and of what kind ? Or in other words, with how 
little faith may we hope to be saved ? — for we can never 
have too much for safety, nor too much fcr happiness. 



16 MIRACLES. 

That there is a minimum — if not a maximum, without 
Which there can "be no well-grounded hope : a faith so 
small, that if it were lessened one jot or tittle, it would 
be no longer a saving faith, seems clear. It is the 
teaching of our Saviour himself; and the Scriptures 
overflow with illustrations to prove, that if this faith be 
of the right kind, it may be sufficient, though very little 
of itself — even less than ' a grain of mustard seed.' 

The question therefore with the multitude seems to 
be, not — How much faith is required for safety ; but 
how little ? or what is the least possible quantity we 
can hope to get along with ? 

Having heard that the devils believe and tremble ; 
and supposing that they who do no more, do well, they 
are satisfied, and never trouble themselves about what 
kind of faith is required. 

And yet, if they had all the faith of the dethroned 
legions of lost Cherubim and Serajihim in the world of 
wo, how would it avail them ? theirs being not the kind 
of belief required, or they would not have been lost. 

Among those who' appear to have had this problem 
under consideration of late, in our land, is the Eev, 
Theodore Parker ; a man of great learning and of great 
reputation, as a thinker and a reasoner ; a man too. of a 
sincere and blameless life, who can have no interest, one 
would suppose, in deceiving himself, or in misleading 
others ; and the conclusion to which he has arrived 
would be, to say the least of it, rather alarming, were 
it not that others, like Strauss and Trench, his proto 
types, have acknowledged the same unbelief — and out- 
lived the acknowledgment. 



MIRACLES. 17 

' / do not believe' says the Rev. gentleman, after 
searching the Scriptures for thirty years, and preaching 
Christ crucified, I know not how long — but long enough 
certainly to put him upon his defence, if he were self- 
deceived, or a deceiver of others, for so large a portion of 
the whole time allowed man for the investigation of truth 
— '/ do not believe'' — and here he might have stopped, 
as having written his own epitaph — '/ do not believe 
there ever was a miracle, or ever will be. Every where I 
find law — the constant mode of operation of the Infinite 

God: 

Supposing there to be no mistake in the language — 
and I give it from a discourse lately published, with his 
name to it, a copy of which I have long been waiting for, 
and have not been able to find — borrowing what follows 
from the quotations that have just appeared in the Boston 
Daily Advertiser, and in the Puritan Recorder, where 
they could not have escaped his attention, if garbled, or 
dislocated, or untrue — then, he must be prepared to 
follow Strauss, who holds that miracles are downright 
impossibilities, and maintain that there can be no such 
thing as a miracle, and therefore, that God himself 
cannot, or will not, under any conceivable circumstances, 
nor in any way, either in person or otherwise, perform a 
miracle. 

For if he may do it in one case, why not in another ? 
And who shall be the judge of its necessity? God him- 
self ? — or the Rev. Theodore Parker ? 

When he reads of the resurrection therefore — of the 
prophecies and their fulfilment — he must do one of these 
three things. There can be no escape. 
2 



18 MIRACLES, 

He must deny the alleged fact — and put the truthful- 
ness of the record in issue : 

Or, account for the alleged fact, and explain it by the 
law, which he professes to find every where — ; the 
constant mode of operation of the infinite God' : 

Or — failing to do this, and refusing to receive it for a 
miracle, however mysterious or wonderful it may he, and 
however contrary to the known laws of nature, and above 
human power, he must give it another name, and so 
resolve the whole question into a dispute about words. 

Does he mean to deny the alleged fact ; and the 
truthfulness of the record? Then, why not say so ; and 
let us understand clearly, that his faith, whatever it 
may he, is not founded upon the Scriptures ; nor on the 
trustworthiness of the witness 

The blind see — the dumb speak — the deaf hear — the 
lame walk — the dead are raised, and the poor have the 
Gospel preached to them — that very Gospel which he 
cannot believe. There are signs and wonders in Heaven 
and in Earth — foretellings and fulfilments — and the Son 
of a carpenter becomes the Lawgiver of a "World : the 
Teacher of a new and strange faith, alike unpalatable 
and unwelcome : which faith, without help from the 
wise and powerful, and against the long established 
usages, and settled convictions, not only of Idol at 
Pagans, but of the Hebrews themselves — God's chosen 
people — goes on. age after age. in a career of almost 
uninterrupted, though unostentatious triumph, burn in 
its way onward through the darkness of Heathenism, 
till nation after nation are led to abandon the Gods 
their fathers, with all their groves and temples a 



MIRACLES. 19 

altars and worship, forever ; and it threatens to over- 
spread the whole earth — and with wkatf With light, 
and life, and everlasting truth ? Or with a mischievous 
and unwholesome delusion ? 

Can there be a greater miracle than the Saviour 
himself — give what definition you please to the word ? 
Yet the Rev. gentleman professes to believe in the 
Saviour, as a Teacher of truth — and upon the testimony 
too of this very record, and of these very witnesses, who 
were either dishonest, or so grossly deceived, as t<> render 
their testimony of no value, if they are unworthy of our 
belief, when they testify to what are called the miracles 
of their Lord and Master. 

Have we not the very same witnesses, and the very 
same testimony, whether good or bad. to the doii 
Hesus, that we have to lii> existence upon earth ? And 
what know we of his wonderful character, but from their 
lidence to Us unexampled gentleness, and sweetness, 
nd truthfulness, and wis lorn and foresight, and patience 
nd lowliness, and power with Grod? 

And yet the Rev. gentleman would have us believe 
hat he believes in some at least of the doings and 
eachings of the Lord Jesus, and in the character he 
ears, upon the testimony of these impeached and greatly 
lighonored witnesses; for he says of the Saviour, 'He 
> my best historic ideal ^\' human greatness : not without 
rrors, nor without the stain of the times.' But again 
ask — what can he know of Jesus himself, or of his 
rrors, but from the testimony of these very men, whom 
e refuses to believe, when they testify as eye-witnesses 
o certain doings of Jesus, which the Lev. # Theodore 



20 MIRACLES. 

Parker, being himself a Believer, undertakes to say 
were impossible, or uncalled for, and never in fact 
happened. 

If any part of all that is recorded in the Scriptures, 
which if they are not the Scriptures of Truth, are the 
Scriptures of Untruth, be untrue — substantially untrue, 
that is ; for nobody will deny that there may be literal 
errors in copying, and errors of translation, where his- 
torical allusions are made — as by Isaiah — sometimes in 
the character of a prophet, and sometimes in that of a 
witness or a reporter, accommodating his language to 
the people as we do now, when we speak of the sun rising 
and setting, though the very children about us know 
that it does neither ; which allusions may have been 
misunderstood ; or the same type may have been em- 
ployed at different times, in different senses — then, who 
shall say what part is true ? Will they who differ so 
much upon all other questions, be likely to agree upon 
this ? And if they do not agree, who shall decide! 
between them ? and what shall become of the Record ? 

In all cases, and in every case, the true question is 
not whether a given act be possible or impossible — fo: 
that were to prejudge the whole subject, and make every 
man's knowledge or experience, or rather, his want 01 
knowledge and experience, the only standard of truth 
since what he did not believe to be possible, it woulfc 
not be possible to prove to him : but whether, all thing 
considered, the witnesses are competent and trustworthy* 
neither beside themselves, nor grossly deceived ; so tha 
when they declare, as e}-e-witnesses and ear-witnesses 
that a gi^en act was done, we cannot help believing ths 



MIRACLES. 21 

they mean to tell the truth, and, consequently, that they 

believe what they testify to, miracle or no miracle. 

But perhaps you require other and greater evidence 
of a miracle, than of that which is no miracle. And yet 
so far as human testimony is concerned, why should you 
do this ? Are you not unreasonable ? for you can have 
no higher evidence than the highest ; and that you have 
here ; since the witnesses are acknowledged to have had 
the best of opportunities ; to have been both honest and 
capable, corroborating one another at everj step, in exwy 
material point, as none hut honest witnesses could do, 
and living and dying in their belief; and since one of 
the greatest miracles they testified t<>. the dispersion of 
the .lews, following the destruction of Jerusalem — fore- 
told by the Saviour, if the witnesses are to he believed — 
has been authenticated by a standing fulfilment, from 
that day to this. 

What otlier. or better e\ idence could there he. than we 
now have, to this and other miracles? Have we net, as 
a matter of simple truth, all the evidence that miracles 
are capable of? Granting their truth as declared, how 
otherwise could they he proved to the after-generations 
of mankind, than by the very testimony we have? 

It is rather late in the day for personal investigation ; 
and if it were otherwise, we should remember that there 
were eye-witne,-ses to the very miracles in question, who 
did net believe : and that among those of our Lord's 
immediate disciples and followers, who saw the mira- 
cles wrought, and must have believed them therefore, 
unless they disbelieved their own senses, and themselves, 
there were those who did not believe Him ; nor did they 



22 MIRACLES. 

understand his teaching, till their eyes were opened 
anew, and their hearts burned within them, under a 
fresh anointing ; although, if the record be trustworthy 
for any- purpose whatever, some of these very witnesses- 
died in the faith, and sealed their testimony with their 
blood. 

If we are to believe at all, therefore, it must be upon 
the testimony of others ; of others, long since gone to ' 
their account ; and therefore, upon evidence which may 
have been falsified, just as it may now be counterfeited 
to some extent, for sustaining the false miracles of our 
day, in the Eoman Catholic, or Mormon churches. And 
what then ? Because there may be some untruth, are 
we to believe there is no such thing as truth ? Because 
we are not omniscient, and are not always able to dis- 
tinguish between truth and falsehood, are we to believe 
nothing ? 

But says Mr. Parker, ' I try all things by the human 
faculties.' 

Therefore : unless the plan devised by Jehovah. ' the 
infinite God,' for the salvation, or the restoration of 
mankind, happens to coincide — as it probably would not 
— with the views and opinions of the Bev. Mr. Parker, 
he would have nothing to do with it. His ' human 
faculties' not being satisfied with its reasonableness or 
adaptation — with its comprehensiveness, or fitness — it 
would be unreasonable to expect his co-operation. 

And what he claims for himself, he would of course 
grant to others ; and the result would be, that 
follower of such faith would require the same careful 
adaptation to his * human faculties,* whatever the 



MIRACLES. 23 

might be, great or small, enlightened or otherwise ; and 
by claiming to withhold assent, wherever there happened 
to be a difference of opinion between God Almighty and 
himself, would in fact assume to legislate for the Uni- 
verse, and to review the Administration of Jehovah. 

And upon what plea, would he do this, whether a great 
or a little man, and whether his understanding were 
benighted or luminous? Upon the plea — put into down- 
right English — that the Lord God Omnipotent, could 
not possibly have other views or purposes, or modes of 
action, here or hereafter, than just such as might be 
guessed out by the feeblest of his creatures. And, 
inasmuch as no two human beings were ever so much 
alike as to be identical, and to have but one soul, one 
conscience, or one judgment between them — it would 
follow, that the infinite Jehovah would not be one and 
the same God, forever and ever, to the children of men, 
but nine hundred millions of Gods — more or less — with 
a correspondent multiplication of purposes and views — 
to every generation ; or about every thirty years in the 
history of mankind. 

And this too, be it remembered, not in shadow, but in 
substance ; not, in matters of speculative opinion, or 
guess-work, about the unfathomable and unknowable, 
where men, because they are unlike, and because they 
differ among themselves, are encouraged to differ ; for 
if all entertained precisely the same opinions, there 
would be an end, not only of language, but of reasoning, 
and the interchange of thought would be no more ; but 
a wholly different God, in the distinguishing and essen- 
tial attributes of his character : so that the command, 



24 MIRACLES. 

published with |he ' blast of unseen trumpets, long and 
loud,' at Sinai, instead of being — ' Thou shalt have no 
other Gods but me,' might be understood to mean, Thou 
shalt have legions of Gods — to every man a God — to 
every woman a God — to every child a God, forever and 
ever ; and to each, according to his heart's desire ; vary- 
ing in character to suit the wishes of all. 

But again — for we are to be charitable ; to deal justly 
and to love mercy — it may be that we have misunder- 
stood the gentleman ; it may be that he does believe in 
something ; for he says, ' I am ready to believe — as if 
being ready to believe were the same as believing — ' I 
am ready to believe that Jesus taught, as / think? — - 
observe the language here — ' as I think — sternal tor- 
ment, the existence of a devil, and that he himself, 
would ere long come back in the clouds of Heaven.' But, 
he adds, ' I do not accept these things on his authority. 
I try all things by the human faculties' — that Areopa- 
gus from which there is no appeal, and which every man 
has enthroned within himself; leaving us to infer that 
he does accept these things, and what is more, upon the 
testimony which he tramples under foot, when other 
purposes are to be accomplished: What these things are 
which he 'accepts', he does not say; and though he 
declares himself ' ready to believe', we are left to guess 
what ; whether it be the ' things' that Jesus taught, or 
only that Jesus taught such things. 

Now this I take to be hardly fair. Yet upon the 
supposition that he meant to acknowledge, and not 
conceal his opinions, when they are printed and published 
with his name at full length on the title page ; it may 



MIRACLES. 25 

be that, instead of denying, he might be disposed to 
admit an alleged fact or occurrence — that of the resur- 
rection, for example — for he certainly appears to believe 
that there was an historical personage bearing the name 
of Jesus Christ, if nothing more; in which case, to justify 
the position he holds, the reverend gentleman must 
account for and explain that alleged fact or occurrence — 
the resurrection for example — by the operation of that 
law — that constant law, which he professes not only to 
believe in, but to 'find' every where. 

If he can always do this, then is he Omniscient ; and 
if he cannot always do this, then, whenever he fails, he 
must content himself with giving that alleged fact 
mother name — as if that would change its character. 
To him, and Strauss the nationalist, and to them that 
3elieve in both, it may be only a puzzle or a phenomenon; 
i mystery or a wonder — a sort of exception, or anomaly: 
but a miracle it cannot be : Because why ? Because a 
miracle is a departure from, and contrary to that law, 
vhich not only is every where, but which the Beverend 
gentleman professes to find every where ; as if G-od him- 
self could have no secrets from Mr. Theodore Barker, and 
lis prototype — David Frederic Strauss. 

But is not this a clear begging of the question ? that 
ibominable thing, which, under the name of petitio 
)rincipii, all just reasoners hate? 

Is it not substantially assuming and maintaining, that 
jrod cannot suspend the operation of any natural law — 
Decause he cannot ? 

Or that he would not, under any conceivable circum- 
stances — because he would not '? 



26 MIRACLES. 

Yet worse : To say tliat ' I do not believe there ever 
was a miracle, or ever will be", because I find every 
where a constant law of the Almighty Lawgiver against 
it ; in other words, to say that I do not believe a thing 
because it is impossible ; and that it is impossible, 
because the constant law of God is against it. is not onl 
a begging of the question, but reasoning in a circle, and 
only to be matched by the proposition of George l 
the younger that 

•What's impossible can't be, 
And neyer — never ■ 

Nor does the absurdity stop here: for the man who 

ventures to say that there never was. and never 
a deviation from the laws of nature, assun 

say what all the laws of nature are, in all ■ 

complicated, and however comprehei - whethe 

swift or slow in their operations; whether ins 

or needing ages u] r their development. He 

measures himself witli Jehovah : and not only und< 

to limit his power, but t;» foreknow and foretell what He 

invst do, or not do, under every possible combinj 

circumstances. 

But perhaps the reverend gentleman would ei 
himself behind a new definition. This would I 
on the whole, than giving a new name :•■ th< ° I 

fact: so long at least as lie claims to be a Teach r .' e 
Gospel, and therefore a Believer. 

What then is to be understood by a miracle"? By 
Dr. Johnson it is defined to be -a wonder: so] 
above hur^ne power'. 



MIRACLES. 27 

Then, the fly that is now crawling over my paper, 
nd the xevy quill I am writing with, are miracles, fur 
oth are above human po^ er. 

Spinoza, while he denies much of what the Rev. Mr. 
arkcr believes, or seems to believe, defines a miracle 
) be a 'rare event, happening according to some laws 
iat arc unknown to us*: whereby it would appear that 

sudden rise of the sea, th< ebbing and flowing of a 
'untaiu. or a meteoric shower, wer< downright miracles 

• that philosopher; being beyond all question, rare 
rents, and happi uing !>; some lawg that a 

» us. 

Dr. Wardlaw, at one time, calls it a 'suspension, or 
olation of the laws of nature' — and nothing i 
erefore all phenomena are miracles, and must continue 

be miracles till they choose to explain themsel 
id avc are acquainted with the law which was neither 

• dated nor suspended: though at another time, after 
sighing the question in another and a higher atm< 3- 
iere. he introduces a new element, and avers that -every 
nuine miracle is a divine attestation': for, he might 
ive added, every divine attestation is of itself, and 
ust be, a miracle. 

And tlii- beautiful and comprehensive definition cor- 
'•till Bentley's — 'effect above human or natural 
wer. performed in attestation of some truth.' 
Would Mr. Parker deny that there may be effects 
»ove htlman or natural power? — Of course not. Then 
he accepts this, or any other generally received theo- 
»ieal definition, he must hold that Buch effects, have 
ver been, will never he, and can never be produced 



28 MIRACLES. 

by God himself, either directly or indirectly, ' in attest- 
ation of any truth.' If so, why not say as much, in so 
many" words ? 

It cannot he that, like some others, we hear of, he 
understands the word itself, to involve a contradiction 
in terms. If so, and he would content himself like 
Strauss, with maintaining that God cannot do what is 
impossible with God himself, there would be no great 
mischief in the proposition, whatever we might think of 
its reasonableness, or usefulness. 

But no. The reverend Mr. Parker must be too much 
in earnest, and too severe a logician, for such trifling. 

There remains then, so far as I can see, but one other 
hypothesis, for explaining the language employed by 
him, in recording his unbelief. 

It may be — for others have so understood him — that 
all he means to say is, that no human power, of itself, 
can ever thwart, change or suspend the laws of the uni- 
verse ; or modify that fixed and ' constant' law which he 
finds every where ; and from which he seems to think 
there can be no deviation, either with or without God's 
leave, or help. If so, and he would but say as much, 
there would be an end of the controversy ; for no believer 
in miracles, however large his faith, would ever be likely 
to say that they could be wrought by man, without God'j 
help, or against his will. 

To say that he does not believe this, therefore, is tc 
say nothing against miracles, but to leave the whole 
question just where he found it. 

And to say with Bentley, that a miracle is something 
beyond human power is no definition at all : nor does il 



MIRACLES. 29 

help tlie matter to add 'performed in attestation of 
some truth,' unless we say what kind of truth ; for the 
rising* of the sun every clay is beyond human power, in 
attestation of the truth that God has pre-appointed his 
daily journey. It must be a new truth, of a moral or 
religious character : or the miracle would be wasted. 
Islands may rise up from the great deep — and mountains 
may sink, in attestation of the truth of God's power, but 
unless it be coupled with some new moral teaching, it 
wants the essential character of what is understood by 
a miracle. 

But a miracle, in the view of Mr. Theodore Parker, 
may be only a suspension of, or deviation from, the known 
law of nature : that ' certain law' which he finds every 
where — and this he cannot believe in, happen what may, 
with, or without God's help, or leave. 

But the known laws of nature are always changing 
with the progress of our discoveries ; and therefore, if 
the definition were complete, that which would have 
3een a miracle in the time of our Saviour, might be no 
niracle now ; and that which would be a miracle now — 
is being against the known laws of nature — might be 

10 miracle hereafter : and miracles would be multiplied 
n direct proportion to our ignorance of the laws of nature; 
tnd the more we knew, the less we should believe. 

And such is undoubtedly the fact with many — and 
)erhaps with the reverend gentleman himself. And 
vdiy? — Because the definition is faulty; for what are 
he knoivn laws of the material Universe, within which, 

11 these deviations that are denominated miracles must 
ccur, compared with the unknown ? 



30 MIRACLES. 

A miracle must "be a deviation not only from the 
known laws of nature — but from the unknown — from all 
laws, whether known or not ; in other words, an impossi- 
bility with God himself, to justify the belief that there 
never was, and never can be, such a thing. 

That fire will burn — that water will quench fire- 
that all bodies gravitate, are among the known laws oi 
nature from the first ; and yet, age after age, qualifica- 
tions and exceptions are multiplying, till we find thai 
fire does not always burn — being but a luminous vapoi 
like the will-o'-the-wisp, under some phases; that water 
instead of quenching, feeds and exasperates a large fire, 
being instantly decomposed and converted into the 
hottest flame ; and that the great unchangeable, over- 
mastering and universal law of gravitation, which binds 
the whole Universe together, may be suspended by th 
operation of a little dust — or a pinch of magnetic ore. 

There was a time, when all that is now happening 
every day, happened first. Then, where was the lai 
which the reverend gentleman professes to find every 
where? The law comes of repetition — does it not"? T\~hat 
know we of an}- law, but by inference drawn from it 
continued operation, with or without intervals? Bu 
we are the creatures of a day : and there may be cvcle: 
and epicycles, and changes and chances, following pre- 
appointed paths, of a circumference so vast, that all th< 
laws we are now acquainted with, may turn out to 
only exceptions to another, and a higher law. The calc 
lating machine of professor Babbidge followed a censta 
'known' law. through one hundred millions of combi 
nations, and then deviated, and another • known* la' 



MIRACLES. 31 

jrevailed, which, after continuing through twenty-seven 
lundred and sixty-one terms, gave place to another and 
ret another, which were not only unknown, but wholly 
msuspected, and therefore unprovided for, till they 
;anie forth, self-generated as it were, by the kindling 
-evolutions of the machine. 

A wonder, by repetition, ceases to he wonderful. That 
tccurrencc therefore, which, when it first happened, was 
n truth a miracle — being contrary to the known laws 
f nature, might cease to be a miracle, by mere repetition 
just as the ebb and flow of the sea, and the rising 
ml setting of the sun are no miracles now, whatever 
ley were at first, before the law was understood, 
hereby they are accounted for ; and for that reason, are 
o longer fitted for doing the office, or supplying the 
lace of a miracle, in the administration of Jehovah. 

When the lightning was brought down from the skies 
y the conjurations of Franklin — how did it differ from 
le fire that certain of our Lord's followers have always 
anted to bring down to earth, for the destruction, or 
lp, of Unbelievers? And yet. if it should fall at their 
idding, it would be a miracle, because obeying the 
nknown law; while if it obeyed him, it would be no 
Liracle, the law being known. 
The first murderer that opened his eyes after death, 
id glared upon the witnesses round about him, and 
articulated fiercely, at the bidding of Galvani, was but 
keying a newly discovered law : but how was it, with 
ic dead man restored to life by touching the bones of 
lisha? He was obedient in death to the unknown law, 
hich neither Galvani, nor the reverend Theodore Parker 



32 



MIRACLES. 



himself, would be able to explain, and therefore disbe- 
lieve. 

The Balloon, the Telegraph, the Daguerreotype, the 
wonders of Animal Magnetism, or Phrenology, of Chlo- 
roform, or Homoeopathy, or Hydropathy, might have 
answered all the purposes of a miracle, ages ago, if the 
secret had been kept : 

While, on the other hand, though the sun were stayed 
on his journey through the heavens — the sea rolled 
backward — the firmament covered with sudden darkness 
at noon-day — and the dead raised by the stretching forth 
of a mortal hand ; yet if another and another were enabled 
to do the same things, for another purpose, and a law i 
were discovered to account for such awful phenomena, 
they would instantly cease to be miracles — being 
longer fitted for the office of miracles. They would not I 
even be received for the result of incantations, any more I 
than telegraphic messages are now. 

Of itself, what is so wonderful as language — whethcrl 
spoken or written ? — visible thought ? — audible wishes ?| 
— articulate hopes and fears ? — unquenchable and ever- 
lasting transports, or secret emotions ? never breathe 
aloud to the ear of mortal ; yet echoed and re-echoed, agej 
after age, among the generations that go by the luminous 
record — arbitrary signs upon paper or parchment — all 
though the author may have been forgotten, for hundrcdsl 
or thousands of years. 

But for language, the world might as well have Lee 
a desert, or given up to the beasts that perish : for 
what worth were the grandest thoughts — a pyramid, 
an empire — the hope of hereafter, a vision, or a prophecj 



MIRACLES. 33 

— if uncommunicated, unweighed, unshared, or stifled ? 
After a little time, the pyramids are but forgotten heaps 
— the mightiest empires but shadows. And what were all 
the past — and all the future — but for the miraculous gift 
of a language that may be understood by the eyes? Yet, 
being a familiar wonder, it is unheeded, or overlooked. 

* And what is Language? Language is the power, 
Whereby, as with the arrowy light of Him, 
The broad brave Hun, that flashes through the sky 
Uninterrupted glory. Thought goes forth 
From mind to mind, flash after flash forever: 
At first, a little fountain bubbled up, 
Within the desert or the wilderness, 
The outlet for a mine of wealth and power. 
Ten thousand times more precious than the earth 
Burning with diamonds and glittering ore, 
That Man, short-sighted Man— would perish for: 
A treasury of Thought, and speech: Anon, 
It filtered forth, and ran a flashing brook — 
A Streamlet then— a River — then a Sea : 
Behold it now ! It overspreads the earth.' * 

To bring the question to a direct issue, however : Sup- 
pose the reverend gentleman, win. dues not believe there 
ever was, or ever will be a miracle, were eye-witness to a 
resurrection from the dead, or what appeared to be such, 
at the bidding of our Saviour himself — that of Lazarus, 
for example — what would he do? What would he say. to 
be consistent with himself? 

Would he deny the fact as it appeared, and stultify 
himself by giving the lie to his own senses? Would 
he try to explain the appearance by some acknowledged 

* Written for Greene's Grammar, in 1810. 



34 MIRACLES. 

natural law ; like Strauss, or Trench, or Paulus ? Or 
would he admit his inability, and try to get off, by saying 
that miracles are impossibilities : and that, although he 
could not find the law, still there must be a law. if he 
only knew where to look for it, which would account for 
the whole. 

The fact, or occurrence, whether explained, or unex- 
plained, must have a name. "Would explanation change 
its real character, so long as the law was not known, or 
understood ? 

Adjusted by the definition of the day, every new thing 
is a miracle, if unrepeated ; being contrary, so far as we 
are acquainted with them, to the known laws of nature. 
When something happens, which to your knowledge never 
happened before — I do not say which never happened 
before to your knowledge — for such events are happening 
every day : but something so strange that you take it 
upon yourself to say that you believe it never happened 
before, would it not be to you a wonder ? — a mystery ? — 
or a phenomenon, till you understood the law ? And if 
you failed to discover that law, after a long continued 
and diligent search, why refuse to call it a miracle ? 
To you, it is a miracle ; if you accept the definition. 

But you could not do this, and be consistent, if your 
disbelief in miracles, whether past or future, is founded 
upon a knowledge of that law which Mr. Parker l Jmis 
every where' — as if there could be no lavr. which he 
has not found — ' the constant mode of operation of the 
infinite God.' 

Were David Hume alive to-day. and the sun should 
appear to stop, at the bidding of a mortal, he would 



MIRACLES. OO 

undoubtedly deny the fact — and call the appearance a 
deception. But if the same thing were repeated the next 
day, and the next, he would begin to believe — he could 
not help it — though he might not be able to account 
for the appearance, or the fact, and would be sure to 
say it was no miracle. And to him. whether it were a 
truth, or only an appearance, or a delusion, it would be 
no miracle — it would he functus officio — its virtue would 
be gone out of it, and it would therefore furnish no 
evidence, no corroboration to his mind ; while, to the 
honest believer, it would be a miracle, and answer all 
the purposes of a miracle, in either ease, if worthily 
employed, and for authentication. 

At one and the same moment therefore, a transaction 
may be a miracle to A, and no miracle to B. Without 
faith, a hopeful, earnest, childlike faith, it would be 
absolutely worthless, however wonderful in itself: while 
to him, who had faith, much less would serve all the 
purposes of a miracle. 

An eclipse, foretold to a barbarian, might do more 
toward fixing his belief, than a stopping of the sun at 
noonday: just as a silver tooth-pick aimed at a Smith- 
Sea Islander, who had seen a chief tumble overboard 
after the discharge of a pocket pistol, would be likely to 
impress him, where a two-and-forty pounder loaded with 
grape to the muzzle, with a lighted match swinging over 
it in the air, might give him no uneasiness. Having 
no experience, what is there for him to be afraid of? 

Even the Saviour himself was not ashamed to acknow- 
ledge that he did not many mighty works among a 
certain people, because he could not, on account of their 



36 MIRACLES. 

unbelief: thereby intimating that, for mighty works, or 
wonders, to be worth doing, there must be co-operation 
with God on the part of Man. 

To say that the faithless, or unwilling, are to be 
convinced of any truth, by the exhibition of God's power, 
is to say what is contradicted by every day's experience, 
and what every body knows to be false. Yet more : it 
implies a contradiction in terms. Volunteers are not 
impressed : and men are not obliged to choose the better 
part. 

Can it be supposed that they who refused to believe 
in Jesus of Nazareth, would have done so, if they had 
been willing to believe in his mighty works? Must 
not he, who believes in a miracle — in what he himself 
calls a miracle, and accepts for a miracle, must he not 
believe what follows? for he who does what we honestly 
believe to be above, or beyond the power of urn- 
Man, does that which puts a stop to all questioning for- 
ever, teach what he may, unless we are ready to acknow- 
ledge that miracles, not lying wonders, but downright 
miracles, may be wrought by the Powers of darkness, or 
by Lucifer, the son of the morning. Such at least would 
be the inferences of most people, I apprehend, though 
there might be no necessary correspondence between the 
power manifested, and the thing proved, or the truth 
published. 

After all, however, the question is not so much what a 
miracle is, nor whether a certain act was the result of a 
miraculous or superhuman power, as whether the wit- 
nesses are to be believed, and whether the narrative be 
truthful. 



MIRACLES. 37 

For even, allowing that all the mighty works mentioned, 
were the result, not so much of miraculous power, as of 
greater knowledge — a more intimate acquaintance with 
the mysteries of nature — still if we would preserve a 
shred or patch of the Bible from the assaults of the 
Unbeliever, we must continue to believe that all the 
facts happened as they are set forth, explain them as 
we may: that Lazarus for example was dead, when lie 
was called to come forth, and that the deaf, the blind. 
the palsied, and the possessed, were all what they pre- 
tended to be. And then, what would it avail the Scoffer 
and the Unbeliever, if he were able to show clearly and 
freyond all question, that these wonders were wrought 
from beginning to end, not in opposition, but in obedience, 
to long-established natural laws, known to the Saviour, 
and to nobody else ? Would not such exclusive know- 
ledge, of itself, be sufficient to prove all that the Believer 
would ask for him? Would it. on the whole, be less 
wonderful that he, a poor carpenter, at the age of thirty, 
should know more of the hidden mysteries of nature 
than all the rest of mankind, from the beginning of the 
world up to this hour, than that lie should have been 
miraculously helped from on high ? 

Yet further. All possibilities, and therefore, all future 
discoveries, inventions and combinations, all wonders and 
all phenomena, have always existed — in posse, if not 
in esse — to borrow a significant law-phrase ; and there- 
fore, so long as any fact is received for a miracle, and 
acknowledged for a miracle, it performs all the functions 
of a miracle ; and the great purpose of Grod being thereby 
accomplished, one fact may be as good as another; 



38 MIRACLES. 

although, instead of being a deviation from, it may be 
altogether in correspondence with, not the known, but 
the unknown, and long-after discovered laws of nature. 

And therefore it is, that false prophecies, and lying 
wonders, and counterfeit miracles, have so abounded from 
the first. 

And the distinction between the true and the false 
would seem to be this. True miracles are the result of 
unknown laws ; false miracles of known laws. He there- 
fore, who can persuade others, no matter how, that 
known laws are not known, may always work a lying 
wonder, so far as they are concerned. But as counter- 
feits prove realities — just as shadows do substances — 
every false miracle is a witness for true miracles. 

We must not be astonished, however, that among 
those who are called inquisitive, strong-minded, original 
thinkers, there should be so much of cloud and darkness 
abiding, upon this great question. 

They lack the believing element, to begin with. Lacking 
faith, a hearty honest faith,- and a meek desire to know 
the truth, come what may of it, they lack every thing 
that would qualify them for reasoning about a miraculous 
power. 

Time was when I. niyself. used to reason, and honestly 
too, as I then thought, after the following fashion. 

We are so constituted for the business of life, that if 
we saw a miracle wrought in our very presence, we could 
not believe it : We should sooner discredit our own 
senses, and believe some fearful deception had been 
practised upon our untried faith ; or that we ourselves, 
were laboring under some strange hallucination. And 



MIRACLES. 39 

not "being able to believe upon the evidence of our own 
senses, how could we believe upon the testimony of 
others, or secondary evidence ? 

But in so reasoning I overlooked the following consid- 
erations. 

1. If there ever was a miracle, it must have been 
capable of proof in some way ; and must therefore have 
carried its own evidence with it ; evidence to some, if not 
to all that were witnesses : in other words, if miracles 
were wanted in the administration of the Universe, they 
would of course be miracles, and not counterfeits, nor 
delusions, nor capable of being counterfeited : and must 
therefore prove themselves. 

2. Although our senses arc among the^ best of wit- 
nesses, they are not always the best : else the feats of 
jugglers would not so astonish us ; and we should not be 
so frequently cheated by our eyes, and ears, and touch 
— perhaps the most reliable of our senses : for smell and 
taste are seldom fixed and clear enough, to satisfy our 
understandings. There is therefore a better and a higher 
evidence ; that which is the result of reasoning and 
comparison : the careful, conscientious and solemn adju- 
dication of the Soul itself— that enthroned Areopagus— 
from whieh there is no appeal, but to the Sovereign 
of the Universe — upon all testimony — whether of the 
senses, or of the understanding. 

3. "We have not a secondary and inferior, but a 
primary, and greatly superior mass of accumulated, 
corroborative and fortifying evidence, to most of the 
miracles recorded in the Scriptures, amounting, in my 
judgment, to all the proof that miracles are capable of; 



40 MIRACLES. 

and therefore, to all the proof we could reasonably expect, 
or wish for: and about all that our understandings, 
constituted as we are, would be capable of weighing or 
estimating, without miraculous help from above: for, 
if one rose from the dead, we might question the reality 
of what we saw, or supposed we saw : and believe 
ourselves asleep, or dreaming, or disordered, or in some 
way deceived, if not imposed upon : and evidence more- 
over, which eye-witnesses to those very miracles, with a 
very few exceptions, had not. 

For example : we have a fulfilment of the proph 
where they had not. "We have the destruction of Jern-j 
salem, and the continued dispersion of the Jews for 
eighteen hundred years. AVe have the life, and in a 
few cases, the death of the chief actors and witnesses, 
after they had been allowed time enough to recover 
from their delusion, if delusion there were : and so far 
as we know, or have any reason to believe, not one of the 
whole, not even Judas, ever thought of contradicting, 
himself at last, or of unsaying what he had acknowledged 
by his companionship ; but lived and died in the faith 
under sufferings and trials, disappointments and tenipta 
tions — for they certainty did not expect the death o: 
their Lord and Master, nor understand, nor believe. oi 
that point — of which we, in our days of untroubld 
Christian strength, and hope, and safety, can have n< 
just conception. 

Above all, we have this, which they had not — tin's. 
the crowning proof, which those who were sent forth I 
preach the Gospel to the uttermost ends of the Earl 
had not — eighteen hundred years of patient faith an 



MIRACLES. 41 

obedient hope, under all discouragements, and through 
all changes, among the Apostles and Martyrs, of every 
nation, kindred and tongue ; and eighteen hundred years 
of uninterrupted, if not of unqualified triumph. 

Instead of having less reason for believing therefore, 
than the Apostles themselves had, have we not absolutely 
more ? Have we not, in addition to all their testimony, 
confirmed by their lives, and sealed by their deaths, and 
so far as we know, or have reason to believe, neither 
contradicted, nor explained away, so long as it was 
capable of contradiction or explanation, that testimony 
reduced to writing, collated and compared, together with 
all that has happened since, for corroboration? 

Let no man try to persuade himself, therefore, that if 
he had lived among the Jews, or the Gentiles, of that 
day, and been permitted to see with his own eyes, and 
to hear with his own ears, the wonders we are told of, in 
the Great Book, he would have been among the followers 
of the Lord Jesus. 

Not all believed — not many indeed. There were not 
only unbelieving Pharisees, but unbelieving Thomases, 
and Peters, and Johns, among the eye and ear-witnesses 
of these very miracles. 

No : He who would not believe now, after well 
considering the whole question, and the awful conse- 
quences of unbelief, arising from neglect, or stubbornness, 
or pride of opinion, or perverted powers, may be very 
sure that he would not believe — nay, that he could not 
— though one should rise from the dead. 

Were a miracle to happen before your face, you would 
believe, you think. But why ? Are you unlike the tens 
4 



42 MIRACLES. 

of thousands who would not, and did not, believe their 
own eyes in the time of our Saviour ? for if they had 
"believed, they would have been converted, and the 
1 mighty rushing wind' would have entirely overswept 
Judea. 

Were a miracle repeated in your presence, you, and 
others about you, eye-witnesses, would be veiy likely to 
believe ; and — after it had grown familiar to all — all 
would believe, you say. But believe what? That it 
was a miracle? Xo, indeed — but that it was no miracle: 
or, that 'there never was, and never would be, a miracle/ 

The first morning was a miracle — the first night 
another. Are they so now? And if not, why not ? Has 
their character changed, or only ours ? 

Ours, if we may believe God himself. Then, all that 
we need for believing, is, to be earned back to the first 
day of Creation — or, in other words, to be restored to 
our first estate. And this we may have done for us. if 
we truly desire it. "We have only to become as little 
children, and the change is complete, and our faith 
becomes a part of our being, the holiest instinct of our 
better nature. 

By refusing to believe with our limited experience. 
until we understand ' all mystery' ; in other words, till 
that which was wonderful is no longer so, and we know 
so much of ' God's constant law', that we are astonished 
at nothing — and believe nothing that requires faith, what 
in sober truth do we undertake to abide by ? Xothing 
else than the infinite and amazing foolishness of David 
Hume, who maintained in fact, though by a formula of his 
own, that we understand all the laws of Nature, together 



MIRACLES. 43 

with all their exceptions and qualifications ; and clearly 
see at a glance what may, and what may not he, in the 
possible administration of God. 

If we believe this — and believe this, we must, if we 
reject what is contrary to our experience, till we have 
grown familiar with it, and are able to account for it— 
do we not believe against evidence ? for ; if there be any 
one thing more clearly taught than another, by all our 
past experience, it is, that we cannot depend upon our- 
selves, and that our best knowledge is limited and 
superficial: so that we are ever learning some new 
truth, or unlearning some old error. 

One thing, at least, is very certain — it is a law of 
our nature. We must have some knowledge and some 
experience to believe any thing, as to fear any thing. A 
little child playing with Lucifer-matches, or lighted- 
thundcrbolts, in a powder-magazine, or falling asleep on 
deck, with a baffling wind aft, and a strong current 
setting toward a lee shore, is never troubled — because, 
having no experience, he can have no fear; and if he 
should happen to have no faith in man, he might soon 
be past help, and past hope. He does not know enough 
to be afraid — the commonest of all reasons among the 
untroubled, or unconcerned, whatever may be their 
age. Certain dangers, to be sure, accompanied by noise 
and tumult, smoke and uproar, they always over-estimate; 
while others, like death by charcoal, or slow poison, or 
old age, or tobacco, or a gradual wasting, or atrophy, 
they always underrate — unless they put their trust in 
others, or have faith in the experience of others. When- 
ever danger happens to be afar off, or noiseless, or very 



44 MIRACLES. 

slow in its approach, they cannot be persuaded to "believe 
in it, nor will they ever try to escape, unless they see 
others running away. He that would shrink trembling 
and aghast from the outer verge of the table-rock, over- 
hanging Niagara, with the roar and mist of tumbling 
Oceans all about him, and the great gulf opening 
underneath his very feet, would bathe unabashed — 
untroubled — in the smooth treacherous waters, a little 
farther off, heedless of the signals made to him, with 
outstretched arms, or waving hands, from a distant 
shore. What he could neither see nor feel, he would 
be sure to disbelieve — unless he had some faith in his 
fellow-man. 

'A little learning is a dangerous thing' says Alexander 
Pope. And wherefore? It may be just enough to mislead, 
or dupe us — by filling the mind with disqualifying self- 
conceit, where less, or more, might be comparatively safe. 
It is the half-enlightened — the presumptuous — who 
suffer most by what are called the dangerous properties 
of drugs, or gunpowder — they will be trying their luck 
with horsemanship and chloroform — they are always 
meddling with whatever they do not well understand, 
among the swift machinery of the world. The more 
unmanageable the better ; for, come what may, they hope 
to be remembered by the newspapers. Crows, being 
but a little wiser than their winged neighbors, know 
just enough to be frightened away from their suppers, 
by a white woollen thread, or a flying rag. If they 
knew less, they would never heed it — if more, they 
would finish their supper in peace. They who bait their 
traps with their own fingers, are never the underwitted 



MIRACLES. 45 

— they are the clever and presumptuous, who pride 
themselves on stealing the bait, without springing the 
trap. 

And yet another thing is equally clear. With all 
our experience, and craft and cunning, and self-conceit, 
whenever a fact passes beyond the narrow circle of our 
observation, we lose the power, we want the chief element, 
of just appreciation. We have no longer a standard 
— we have no gauge — no quadrant for measuring alti- 
tudes, distances or magnitudes, in the Spiritual Universe. 
However strange it may seem to say so, j-et one thing is 
no more wonderful than another — no more astonishing 
than another, where both are beyond our sphere of 
observation. In our ignorance — not in our knowledge — 
we are amazed at nothing, and therefore believe nothing ; 
and claim to be as Gods. 

To stop the sun at noon-day would no more astonish 
a Sioux chief, than to foretell an eclipse; and lie that 
should put the wary Savage in communication with hie- 
family a thousand miles off, by the Telegraph wires. 
would be to him a greater than Joshua himself. 

To send a shadow fifteen degrees forward or back, 
upon a dial, or a flight of steps, would not be likely t<> 
astonish him at all — unless he knew something of dials 
and steps, to begin with. 

And so too, if a shepherd of the East were to sec a 
lock of wool wet with dew, where all around was dry — 
or dry, where all around was wet ; if he had some 
knowledge and some experience, he might believe some- 
thing — not much however : and to him, for that very 
4* 



46 MIRACLES. 

reason, not knowing now much to believe, it would be 
no miracle. 

Nor would it be a miracle, or anything out of the 
usual way, to the unbelieving Chemist, the Scoffer, or the 
Juggler; their little knowledge being but just enough 
to make them very suspicious, and exceedingly slow of 
belief. Knowing more — or less — they might be willing 
to trust their senses : but knowing just what they do, 
they are disqualified — they are too knowing by half: 
while to another, perhaps — to the Lord's Anointed, who 
stood upon Grilboa, towering head and shoulders above 
all the princes of Israel, sore wounded of the archers, 
and faint, and leaning upon his spear — the horsemen 
and chariots following hard after him — it would be, as if 
the earth had opened underneath his feet, or as if the 
very skies about him, and above him, were in travail 
with prodigious consummation : 

Though earnestly desiring death at the hands of a 
follower ; though undismayed, perhaps, at the foretold 
destruction of his whole house — though forsaken of God 
— and clearly foreseeing the end of all his kingly hopes 
for he had not been ' paltered with in a double sense', 
by the 'juggling fiend' he trusted — when the awful 
shadow stood, face to face, with the warrior monarch, 
and said to him, 'To-morroic shalt thou and thy sons be 
with me'/ — she had not ' kept the word of promise to 
the ear, and broke it to the hope' — yet, to him, the 
believing Saul, and not the unbelieving, that lock of 
wool might have been more terrible than an army with 
banners, garments rolled in blood, or the shouting of the 
Captains. 



MIRACLES. 47 

To go up through the clouds in a chariot of fire, 
would not more astonish a little child, or a South-Sea 
Islander, than to go up in a painted balloon, with para- 
chutes like horses : and the poor Hindoo, if he had seen 
that circus rider, mounted on horseback, with lance in 
rest, who went up from the heights of Paris not a twelve- 
month ago by the help of such a balloon, might well be 
forgiven, if he mistook the apparition for that ' dread 
Brama', who is to come hereafter, and ' shake the sunless 
skies' — when, according to the faith of his fathers, 

1 Heaven's fiery horse beneath his awful form, * 
Paws the light cloud and gallops on the storm.' 

While to the very beggars and children of Paris, it would 
be no more wonderful than riding on three horses, or 
leaping through a balloon afire, at Franconi's. 

The possibility of journeying five hundred miles an 
hour would be a matter of easy faith to a barbarian who 
had the experience of sixty miles an hour, without 
understanding it fully: for something of it he must 
have understood, or he would be no more astonished at 
sixty, than at six miles an hour. 

Catlin says of the Mandans, the Foxes, and other 
warlike tribes of the far AVest, that many of their chiefs, 
though far apart, and strangers, gave precisely the same 
reason for their unwillingness to sit for their pictures. 
They were afraid, as the eyes of the portrait would be 
always open, that they themselves would never be able to 
sleep again. There was just that amount of experience, 
and knowledge, and sagacity, which disqualifies. Had 
these deep, clear, and original thinkers, men of a sincere 



48 MIRACLES. 

and blameless life, according to the testimony of Catlin 
himself, known a little less, or a little more, they would 
not have been afraid of their own shadows ; nor would 
they have made themselves a laughing-stock to the some- 
what more enlightened, by their unbelief. As ' giants 
among pigmies' — the 'one-eyed monarchs of the blind' — 
they were in the worst possible condition for judging of 
the truth. Like the poor birds that are hindered from 
helping themselves to what they most need, by white 
threads, or fluttering rags, these poor Indians know just 
enough, not to be made fools of, perhaps, but just enough 
to make fools of themselves ; and, of course, are among 
the last of mankind to be reasoned out of their unbelief. 
Having no safe knowledge, on the subject in question, 
they were incapable of weighing testimony, and therefore 
disqualified for judging upon the strongest possible 
evidence. 

Account for it, as we may, the simple truth seems to 
be, that up to a certain point, the more we know, the 
more suspicious we are, and the less we believe : while 
beyond that point, the more we know, the readier we are 
to believe, upon proper evidence, and the more unwilling 
to disbelieve, without evidence, or against evidence. The 
Ancients, with Socrates, Aristotle, Brutus, Lord Bacon, 
Swedenborg, Xapoleon Bonaparte, Lord Byron. Sir 
Matthew Hale, Cotton Mather, and others of a corre- 
spondent grasp and comprehensiveness, believed much 
that inferior minds make a jest of; and were called 
superstitious. Little as may be the amount of intellectual 
power, needed for belief, much less would seem to be 
required for unbelief. If the great are sometimes 



MIRACLES. 49 

easy faith — readily cheated — and credulous ; it may be, 
because they overrate themselves, or underrate others — 
and are above suspicion. It never enters the head of 
a truly great man, that he may be overreached by a 
;hild, or a simpleton. But who are they that believe 
nothing, and suspect every -body ? Are they ever the 
truly great ? 

Blockheads are not often credulous, though the igno- 
rant are ; but all these great men believed, and openly 
avowed their belief, in what no blockhead ever did 
believe, or would ever be willing to acknowledge he 
believed. 

Count up the disbelievers in Copernicus — in Galileo 
— in Harvey and the circulation of the blood — in Jen- 
aer and Vaccination — in Franklin and Electricity — in 
Grail, Spurtzheim and Phrenology — in Mesmer and Ani- 
mal Magnetism — in the Quadrature of the Circle — the 
liscovery of Longitude — Homoeopathy— Chloroform — the 
Daguerreotype, or Perpetual Motion — and who are they? 
and what have they always been from the first? Diligent 
inquirers after truth? — slow, cautious, honest, faithful, 
inquisitive men? or hasty and presumptuous people, 
]uitc above the vulgar whims and prejudices of the hour 
— much too busy for deliberate examination — and alto- 
gether too wise, and too knowing, not to feel satisfied 
that what they do not understand, or know, by intuition, 
can neither be true, nor worth knowing, if it were true? 

Are they men of careful and deliberate opinions — 
tolerant of honest error — conscientious, wary and slow ? 
— are they charitable? — or do they begin with loud 
asseveration, sneers and scomng? Do they not declare in 



50 MIRACLES. 

substance, if not in so many words, that they already 
know all that is to be known of the secrets of Xature, 
and the laws of God ? that all who entertain a different 
belief are to be pitied and avoided, if not as knaves and 
fools, at least, as not worth reasoning with, or talking 
to, seriously? 

Dr, Lardner tried this, not long ago; and while he was 
demonstrating at Liverpool, the impossibility of navi- 
gating the ocean by steam to any useful purpose — a man 
of much less knowledge, and well nigh unacquainted 
with the laws of Hydrostatics, and Hydraulics — a Xew 
Englander perhaps — Yankee like — 'whittles her out', 
and solves the problem. Had the Dr. known much less, 
or much more, he would not have committed himself so 
rashly to all future generations ; but, like the Mandaa 
Savage, knowing just enough to make a fool of himself 
■ — in a serious way — he took the earliest opportunity 
of doing so, with a show of being wiser than othei 
people. 

Living within the Tropics are a multitude at thi: 
hour— whole nations indeed. — who cannot be persuaded 
to believe in snow or ice, till they have handled oi 
tasted both. Lumps of water and lumps of light ar< 
alike to the inexperienced, every -where. And a few tha 
have been carried away into slavery from these region, 
of unbelief, and have seen what the white wizards a: 
capable of, would be likely, if they saw either, to believ 
it a product of man, or to mistake the snow for powderet 
sugar, and the ice for shattered crystal, or broken glass 

To the wholly unenlightened, it would be preposteroo 
to maintain that such things are, unless you have sped 



MIRACLES. 51 

mens with you to satisfy them ; while the philosophers 
and original thinkers among them, if there happen to be 
such, would settle the question forever, and to the satis- 
faction of the great unreasoning multitude, perhaps, by 
demonstrating the impossibility of such things ; by 
appealing to their past experience ; or by ashing, with 
triumphant self-complacency, why the northern atmos- 
phere could not be frozen solid, cut into large blocks, 
and shipped to the ends of the earth — as it was reported 
by travellers they did with frozen water, in portions of 
North-America — water itself being only air ; and air, 
according to the strange theory of these dreamers, only 
snow and ice in the form of vapor; or, peradventurc, there 
might be found somebody to put a stop to the hallucina- 
tion, by saying in so many words, ' I do not believe there 
ever was, or ever will be such a thing as snow or ice. 
Every -where we find law — the constant mode of operation 
of the infinite God. I try all things by the human facul- 
ties '. Ergo — snow and ice arc delusions. Q. E. D. 

To Paul, the believer, all things were possible. But 
how was it with Saul, the unbeliever? He could not 
believe that Christ himself was possible. 

And therefore — to bring all this into shape with a 
few words — if we arc to believe at all in the strange or 
marvellous, or in anything whatever, beyond the sphere 
of our own personal experience, we must believe on the 
testimony of others : and to do this, we must have nei- 
ther too much, nor too little knowledge, on the subject — 
but just enough — otherwise we are apt to believe nothing 
j — in some cases, forsooth, because we do not understand 
mysteries — in others, because we do. 



52 MIRACLES. 

But can we believe at our pleasure ? 

No. 

Cau we believe, in opposition to tlie testimony of our 
senses? 

Most undoubtedly, for we do so every day; and the 
older we grow, the readier we are to require some other 
proof than that which, in our childhood, was always 
_ enough. And why? Because our understanding assures 
us, from hour to hour, and from day to day, that we 
cannot always trust our senses ; and, as the woman 
appealed fiom Philip drunk, to Philip sober, so do we 
appeal to our judgment, and our past experience, when 
ever our senses are disturbed by phenomena, or apparent 
wonders : for, as we do not trust their evidence, when a 
juggler would have us do so, or a stright stick pushed 
under water becomes a serpent — so, in all other situa- 
tions, we do not believe in a fact, until we have weighed 
and measured all the evidence, compared part with part, 
and reasoned upon the whole, with a seriousness and 
carefulness, proportioned to the magnitude of the ques- 
tion. 

But can we believe in opposition to our understanding? 

No more than we can believe in opposition to oui 
belief; for, up to a certain point, understanding and 
belief are always co-existent, and each the measure of the 
other ; while beyond that shadowy point, which is evei 
shifting in the progress of our knowledge — although wc 
cannot believe in opposition to our understanding : yet 
we may believe — though we do not understand — because 
of our faith in others, dead or alive, man or God : a 
where we entrust our ships and cargoes, our property 



MIRACLES. 53 

and character, to strangers we never saw ; and onr 
health and life to a surgeon, or a navigator, we never 
met before — we ourselves being wholly unacquainted 
with the course of trade, or wholly ignorant of surgery 
and navigation — and therefore incapable of understand- 
ing the whys and wherefores of their behavior. And 
this, I take it, is »just what is required of Mankind, 
under the name of belief, or faith. God requires to be 
trusted, as we trust our fellow-men every day — and 
nothing more ; and the proof he asks for, is only that 
which we are always ready to give our fellow-man, after 
professing to put faith in him. Our doings are to 
correspond with our professions. And this, I believe, is 
all God requires of man — trust, and faith, and hopeful- 
ness, and a correspondent behavior. 

But enough. It is high time this controversy were 
ended. And the following propositions and queries are 
submitted herewith, to the honest and thoughtful among 
Unbelievers — and with no others would I have to do, if 
I could help it — in the hope that they may be found 
worthy of prayerful consideration — as embodying, in a 
few brief words, the whole substance of the foregoing 
argument. Elaborated with many throes, and much 
prayer ; with prayer they should be weighed and an- 
swered, if answered at all. 

1. In the administration of Almighty God, if a 
miracle were needed, a miracle would happen. To deny 
this, were to deny the wisdom or the power of Almighty 
God. 

2. If there ever was a miracle, it must have carried 
its own evidence with it ; and must have been capable 



54 MIRACLES. 

of proof. Otherwise, it would cease to be a miracle, 
by not fulfilling the purposes of a miracle. 

3. Have we not all the evidence, that the alleged 
miracles of Scripture are now capable of? 

4. Have we not the highest possible evidence, ever 
recognized by the human understanding, or by earthly 
tribunals, for the establishment of any alleged fact — 
in support of these alleged Scripture miracles ? 

5. Have we not a large amount of corroborating 
testimony, in the progress of ages, and in the fulfilment 
of ancient, unquestionable prophecies, over and above 
all that eye-witnesses, and ear-witnesses, could have 
had to any such fact whatever ? 

6. If these were true miracles, and not lying wonders, 
how otherwise could they now be proved, than they are 
proved ? 

7. Not to acknowledge this, would be to assume 
that miracles were never needed — or that if needed, 
they were incapable of proof : that they were impossible, 
to the Lord God Omnipotent himself: or that, if possible. 
they could not be proved, however much they might be 
needed : or that Jehovah, in the administration of the 
Universe, never understood the question as others do, 
and failed to provide for that authentication, or proof, 
without which, the greatest of miracles would be worth- 
less. 



FAITH. 55 



. FAITH. 

Faith distinguished from Belief. How much is needed? With 
how little can we hope to be saved ? 

1 Can the Ethiopian change his skin? Or the Leopard 
Ids spots? 'Then — and not till then — * may ye also 
do good, that arc accustomed to do evil.' Jer. xii : 23. 

Now, if there be meaning, or truth, in this declaration 
of the Hebrew Prophet, it is clearly impossible for them 
to do good, that are accustomed to do evil. 

So too, when we are solemnly assured, by the Saviour 
liimself, that it would be easier for a camel to pass 
through the c}'c of a needle, than for a rich man — as a 
rich man — to enter the kingdom, we do not require to 
be told, that such a thing — though possible with God, 
since with Him, all things are possible — is nevertheless 
impossible for Man, without help from above. 

Both were proverbs, intended to assert a hopeless 
impossibility, in a way to be remembered forever ; just 
as we say, to the dreamers of our age, ' AVhen the sky 
falls, we shall catch larks'. 

But who are they that are ' accustomed to do evil'? 
Are they not all Mankind? 

Then, if all are ' accustomed to do evil', and if, to do 
good, be the condition of happiness hereafter ; and if he 



56 FAITH. 

only, that feareth the Lord and worketh righteousness, 
can "be accepted ; there is no hope for Man, but in the 
miracle of Eegeneration. God must work wonders for 
him, and within him, or he is lost forever. 

Hence the necessity of faith : and faith, too, in one 
miracle, if no more — the miracle of Eegeneration, 

And now, what is Faith ? And how much must we 
have, and of what kind, to be safe ? In other words, 
what is the least we can do with ? for such is the true 
question, after all, with the great body of Unbelievers, 
and perhaps, with most Believers. The true question, 
stripped of all round-aboutness, if we may judge by the 
behavior of mankind, seems to be just this — With how 
little faith, can we hope to be saved ? Although, among 
them, are to be found many, who go one step further, and 
ask, how much they must have, to be sure. 

Paul says, in the great Epistle to the Hebrews, ch. 
xi : 1, ' Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the 
evidence of things not seen.' If, instead of calling faith 
the substance of things hoped for, he had called it the 
shadow, or type, of things hoped for — just as he calls faith 
the evidence of things not seen, instead of the things 
themselves — there would have been little or no difficulty 
in the definition, perhaps. But Paul never uses words 
without meaning : and when he calls faith the substance, 
we are bound to believe that he meant just what he 
said, and that faith — Scriptural faith — is indeed some- 
thing more than a type, or a fore-shadowing — a comfort, 
a consolation, or a hope. In other words, we are to 
understand by the word, a substantial and abiding 
assurance. 



FAITH. 57 

What men of the world understand by faith, is that 
inward strength of conviction, without which, the whole 
business of the world would stop. Without faith, no 
man could lift his hand to his mouth, or snuff a candle 
— for, without faith, no man would try. If he did not 
believe he could do it — or rather, if he believed he could 
not do it — he would no more think of trying to lift his 
arm, than of trying to blast a fig-tree, or to raise the 
dead. Hence that hallucination, where the sufferer 
cannot be persuaded to move. He sits motionless, and 
speechless, believing himself powerless. 

Belief and Faith arc sometimes, though not always, 
interchangeable terms. The Devils believe and tremble 
— but have they faith ? 

We trust ourselves, our property, our children, our 
very lives, and characters, to the watchfulness of stran- 
gers, dependent upon other strangers, amounting to hun- 
dreds, or thousands ; any one of whom, if treacherous or 
faithless, might betray us to utter and irretrievable 
ruin. And yet, we sleep soundly in our faith. 

We send a ship and cargo to the uttermost ends of the 
earth, on a three years' voyage, perhaps, believing the 
representations of comparative strangers, about China, 
and the Xorth-west Coast, ginseng, and the fur trade, 
till we are satisfied that a profitable business may be 
done for us, by people we have never seen, and never 
wish to see, of a questionable character for truth, and 
much given to cheating and pilfering. And yet, because 
of our faith in Man, we are untroubled. 

We submit ourselves to another stranger, in a strange 
land, perhaps, and swallow poison at his bidding — or 
4* 



58 FAITH. 

allow him to cut off a leg, if lie thinks it worth while, 
without flinching, and without a misgiving. And why ? 
Because we believe in Man. We do more to prove this, 
than Alexander did, when he emptied the cup, which, 
for aught he knew, was drugged with death ; for Par- 
menio was no stranger, hut a tried and faithful friend : 
and yet, nobody thinks of celebrating our faith — for 
such manifestations are happening every day, and are 
common alike to the strongest, and to the feeblest of 
mankind. 

You employ an advocate upon a question, which 
involves, not your substance only, nor your life, but 
your good name, all that you most value on earth ; and 
you are comparatively tranquil ; though you are among 
strangers, and know not which way to turn for help, 
and can do little or nothing for yourself. And why j 
Because of your faith in him — a cold, passionless abstrac- 
tion — as well as in the jury, the judges, the witnesses, 
and the law ; all strangers, all shadows, and all phantoms 
to you: for without such faith, you would be lost — and 
being both helpless and hopeless, no earthly friend 
could be of use to you. 

"Would it be unreasonable for your Heavenly Fathei 
to require of you, at least as much faith in Him. as 
you are obliged to manifest in your fellow-man. by 
proof not to be gainsaid, or questioned, in your dealings 
with him ? 

Would it be too much to ask of you a correspondent 
measure of untroubled faith, in your only advocate and 
mediator, Jesus Christ, where you can do little or 
nothing for yourself, and must believe this much, or 
be lost, forever ? 



FAITH. 59 

You send money, jewels, messages, letters, bills of 
exchange, to the amount of thousands, or tens of thou- 
sands — perhaps of millions — in the course of your life, 
by land and sea ; and secrets of life or death, by mail, or 
express, or telegraph, through the length and breadth 
of Europe, America, and a part of Asia — knowing that 
your acknowledgments and" suggestions will have to pass 
through the hands of hundreds, or thousands, of inquisi- 
tive people, no honester than jouv neighbors, or yourself. 
Yet, you have no misgivings. Y'ou are hopeful, serene 
and patient : you never lose an hour of sleep — nor a 
meal — and why? Because of your faith — not in God — 
but in your fellow-man. 

You believe in the North Star — in the Magnetic 
needle — in the charts and maps that you never saw : 
in the laws of magnetism you never understood ; in 
what are called the elective affinities, which you never 
thought of inquiring into, but always acknowledged for 
mysteries beyond your fathoming. You believe in the 
laws of navigation — in all that other men say about 
winds and currents — you believe in the captain and 
crew, the cook and the cabin-boy — in the carpenter, 
rigger, and blacksmith : you believe in the brain, and 
its functions — in the muscles and machinery of the 
arm, at the wheel, or on the yard ; you believe in the 
rudder and the ropes, in the cable and anchor — knowing 
tli at if there should be a failure any-where, so much as 
of a single rivet or link, in that endless chain of causes, 
combinations and effects, upon which your very life 
depends, the ship may be lost, and you with it, and all 
that you most love on earth. And vet, you are untrou- 



6 FAITH. 

"bled ; and your sleep refreshes you, and you are not 
afraid to be left alone. 

How complicated, and how strange ! Day after day, 
and year after year, you risk your whole happiness here, 
and it may be, hereafter, on these multiplied combina- 
tions of human art, and on the good faith of your fellow- 
men — a large majority of whom you would not associate 
with, nor become answerable for, to the amount of a 
week's wages. And why ? Because of the necessity, 
there is, if we would live here, that we should believe 
in something. Were it otherwise, we could not live a 
day. We should be afraid to eat, or drink, or sleep — 
the whole business of the world — the machinery of the 
moral Universe itself, would stop. To believe nothing, 
were to do nothing — just as to do nothing, is not only to 
believe nothing, but to prove it. 

Xow, to all this long chain of causes and effects, can 
we not add another link, and trust God ? 

The more we do, the more we may. All our faculties 
are strengthened by use — in other words, by hardship 
and trial. Believing so much, why not believe more ? 
And since the strength of the strongest mind — or the 
strongest man — like that of the largest pyramid, is only 
that which is to be found in the weakest pari, how 
necessary that there should be a wholeness in our system 
of belief. Otherwise, our weakness may appear, just 
where all have counted upon our strength; and just there, 
we may soonest prove unworthy. Would Milo have 
carried the bull, had he not begun with the growing calf? 
Would any of us have been what we now are, had we 
ever stopped trying to do more ? 



FAITH. 61 

You see the business of the World carried on by 
letters, which a child might open, or destroy, by wheel- 
barrow-loads ; traversing earth and sea, month after 
month, as if they bore ' a charmed life'. You find 
questions of peace and war settled by signs — passing 
through many languages, and over many empires, by the 
help of multitudes interested in defeating a negotiation ; 
and able, at any time, with a lucifer-match, or a little 
steam, such as continually escapes from the nose of a 
tea-pot unobserved, to baffle the mightiest monarch, and 
the ablest negotiation : and yet, if you yourself are to 
be believed, you arc astonished that faith should ever 
be required of you by your Heavenly Father, in relation 
to what you never saw, never knew, never felt, and 
judge of, only from hearsay. 

And, with all your faith, not only in Man, but in 
Men ; and not only in them that you know, and believe 
to be honest enough, as the world goes, but in strangers 
you never saw, and never wish to see, and whom you 
have good reason to believe dishonest, you find yourself 
wondering in secret — and your whole behavior can be 

accounted for upon no other hypothesis that God 

Almighty should be so unreasonable, as to require of you 
as much faith in him, your Father, as you have always 
had in comparative strangers ! 

Look at this matter, I beseech you, and see if this be 
not substantially the reasoning you are satisfied with, 
when you would escape the troublesome suggestions of 
your own disquieted soul ? 

But you have other objections to what is called faith 
in the Scriptures. To you, it seems to be but another 



62 FAITH. 

name for Salvation itself: in other words, to be all that 
is required of Man, to secure salvation : for example — 
■ If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, 
and shalt believe in thy heart that God hath raised him 
from the dead, thou shalt be saved.' Bom. x : 9. 

But in this, you, and others like you, are greatly 
mistaken : for, notwithstanding the declaration of Paul, 
that ' Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord 
shall be saved' Bom. x : 13; and of our Saviour, that 
he who belie veth in Him hath eternal life ; that through 
faith we are saved ; and that the sick are made whole 
by faith ; and notwithstanding all the mysterious inti 
mations of Paul, and James, and others, about faith and 
works ; there is, probably, no such thing as faith — a 
wholesome and saving faith — such as Christ and the 
Brethren looked for, and waited for — without works 
for even the helpless and the bed-ridden may do some- 
thing, for the help of others, if not for themselves. 

Very plain are many of these declarations ; and very 
hard are most of them to be reconciled to the suppoal 
tion, that faith, of itself, is sufficient. 

According to James, ii : 18, a man may say. ; I have 
faith, and thou hast works' — but he adds, ' Show me 
your faith without ivories, and I will show you my faith 
by my works.' 

God, who looketh upon the heart, may know that we 
believe, without any outward manifestation of our belief; 
and yet we are commanded, not only to watch and pray, 
but to work; to remember the poor, to visit the sick 
and the fatherless. And wherefore ? since God knows, 
and cannot be deceived? That others may see and 



FAITH. 63 

ye. Not being able to look into our hearts, when 
lo nothing but pray and profess to believe, how 
ral the dread sarcasm of others, and how just — 
at do ye more than others ?' Observe the language. 
■t do ye more than others — not what say ye more 
others ? 

ith Man, as with God himself, professions are worth- 
God looks to the heart ; Man to the behavior. And 
jven the Great Teacher himself was an exception to 
Law, that faith and works must go together, and are 
r to be separated. 

e went about doing good — busying himself therefore 
the wants of others ; and when he stood at the 
th of that open grave, waiting for a beloved friend 
•me forth, what did he first? And what last? ' He 
'; and then He lifted up his eyes and said 'Father I 
ank thee that thou hast heard me ! And I know 
thou nearest me always ; but because of the people 
t me, I said this, that they may believe that thou 
sent me. And when he had said this, he cried 
. a loud voice, Lazarus ! come forth'/ 
^.nd the dead man came forth — bound hand and foot 
. grave clothes, and his face was bound about with a 
dn.' John, xi : -14. 

ere, for the sake of the people about him, the Master 
ight the miracle. He wanted to satisfy, not his 
ler — but his Brethren. 

s well might a disobedient, headstrong child pretend 
ve his father, while bringing his grey hairs with sorrow 
le grave ; or a patient pretend to have entire faith 
is physician, wbile refusing to take the medicine he 



64 FAITH. 

offers: or a client pretend to have the greatest confidence 
in the ability and good faith of a lawyer, while going 
contrary to his advice ; or a merchant to think highly 
of another's responsibility and character, while refusing 
to be answerable for his board, or to leave him alone 
among his papers, or to let his silver spoons go uncounted 
after they had been dining together ; — as for a human 
being to pretend a belief in God, while disobeying him, 
at every step ; or a trust in God, while his mind is over- 
anxious, and fretful, and peevish, about earthly things ; 
or his heart and countenance heavy with unspeakable 
sorrow, for any-thing but his own transgressions, or 
unworthiness, or unthankfulness. 

No, no — professions are nothing — behavior and actions 
every-thing. No matter how frequent, how prolonged, 
how solemn, nor how mournful; no matter how clamorous 
— no matter how sincere : unproved, they amount to 
nothing : and there is no proof, but in works. Words, at 
the best, are only breath. Acts of obedience, love and 
mercy are wanted ; and nothing else will satisfy the 
understandings of men, or the purposes of God. 

Is it not so with all the business of the World? Then, 
why should God be satisfied with less than Man requires! I 
Sincerity itself, unaccompanied, or un-illustrated, by 
works of some sort, may be but another name for a dan- 
gerous, and ever-growing self-delusion. 

You inquire the way of a guide, among the snow-paths I 
and precipices of a strange country : you profess to have I 
entire faith in him — and tell him so to his face — even I 
while you turn away from the path, indicated by his out-l 
stretched hand — or you persist in taking another, which I 



FAITH. 65 

lie has warned you against, over and over again, with 
darkness, and tumbling waters, and loosened avalanches, 
all about you : Can you hope to be believed ? 

We cannot help weighing this question — though we 
shut our eyes, and stop our ears, and laugh at the people 
of God. Sooner or later, we must be prepared to put 
ourselves on trial, for our lives. 

Are we to believe nothing meanwhile that God says, 
until we have touched, and tasted, and tried for our- 
selves ? even while we are satisfied with what a man may 
tell us — of other lands for example — without asking to 
see for ourselves — can we do this, • and hope to be 
forgiven'? 

You profess to believe in the Rothschilds, or in Bates, 
Baring & Co. ; but refuse to act upon such belief, or to 
commit yourself in any way, for proof. You make 
your remittances to Bombay, or Canton, through Paris, 
or Amsterdam, or St. Petersburgh, but never touch a 
bill drawn by either house, or its agencies, happen what 
may. How is it possible to believe you ? You do not 
Delieve yourself. Actions speak louder than words. God 
you cannot deceive : yourself, you may. 

And this, we are to observe, is the language of God 
himself; the plainest teaching of the Bible. 

Your belief can be proved to others, and to yourself. 

only by correspondent action. And though God sees 

the heart, and cannot mistake, nor be deceived; and, 

'or that very reason, may be satisfied with evidence. 

r hich man would overlook, or wholly misunderstand : 

till, if God finds there nothing but profession — words — 

reath — however sincere, and however earnest, he will 





66 FAITH. 

not, and cannot be satisfied. And so too it may "be 
with works. There may be no such thing as works, in 
the Scriptural sense, without faith. Works and faith 
must go together — or what can be their worth, in the 
estimation of God '? 

"Works are but the evidence of faith ; and faith, 
beyond all question, the very breath of life to works ; 
faith may be likened to the blossoming ; works, to the 
fruitage of christian character : warmth and brightness, 
however combined, or intermingled, are always bright- 
ness and warmth, and under no circumstances are they 
inte rch ange able . 

There are those who would try to persuade themselves 
- — and others — and not always in vain — that their under- 
standings are shocked by such a doctrine. They are be- 
lievers, at least, in Alexander Pope, if not in the Bible ; 
and when they meet with such inconsiderate and pre- 
sumptuous theology as the following, they are ready to 
cry out for joy, 

' For modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight. 
His can't be -wrong, whose life is in the right *: 

As if no faith were required of Man ; as if an atheist 
leading a moral life, and having no faith whatever, wen 
safe: or as if, to believe that there is no sun, weulc 
annihilate the sun : or not to believe in the attribut 
of a deadly poison, would make it harmless : for this, i 
it means anything different from the Scriptures, must b 
the meaning of these two lines. 

Why not believe in the following couplet, for a lik 
reason ? 






FAITH. 67 

• For forms of government, let fools contest ; 
Whate'er is best administered, is best': 

As if there were no difference between one government 
and another ! As if an absolute, unchangeable, hopeless 
despotism, administered in its perfection, were calculated 
to promote human happiness, just as much as the freest 
form of self-government, administered according to the 
genius of such a government, in the best manner : 

Or these lines, which under one aspect, and having 
reference to Jehovah, as the Governor and final Judge of 
a moral universe — and not merely, as the Builder of the 
skies, are either pitable nonsense, or downright blas- 
phemy, under a show of the serenest philosophy : 

■ Who sees with, equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall ; 
Atoms and Systems into ruin hurled, 
And now a bubble burst, and now a World.' 

As if machinery and morality: the imperishable and 
the transient : the material and the spiritual, the soul, 
and the body, were all one thing before God ! 

But let us try to see for ourselves. Would not charity, 
without faith, degenerate into sheer sympathy, or down- 
right ostentation ? Would not self-denial become a farce 
— lowliness, h} r pocrisy — worship, an affronting mock- 
ery? and life itself an empty show indeed, without 
faith to dignify and hallow it? And how can faith 
prove itself, without works? or works avail aught, 
unsanctined by faith and love ? Is motive to go for 
nothing ? Are the intentions and purposes of the heart 



68 FAITH. 

always to be overlooked? Is this the way that men 
act in the affairs of this world ? 

The self-righteous man, the philosopher, and the proud, 
generous, truthful moralist, who value themselves on 
having no other religion ; being altogether above the 
weakness of giving ' up to the few what was meant for 
mankind' ; and believing, or pretending to believe, that 
God looks not after the motive, where the heart is right 
and the action, or life, right — in the judgment of their 
fellow men ; as if God judged as man judges, and as ' 
if the whole scope and bearing of the Scriptures were 
misunderstood on the subject of a right belief, or a dis- 
tinguishing faith — might have their eyes opened, if they 
would apply such reasoning, faithfully, to the business 
of life, and to themselves, as fathers, friends, husbands, 
wives, or companions. 

Let me suppose a case for consideration — a loving, 
watchful and patient father has one child, a daughter, 
greatly distinguished from all the rest, by gentleness, 
obedience, and faithfulness. Everybody speaks well of 
that child. The father feels comforted and strengthened, 
more and more every day, and is ready to lay down his 
life to secure that child's welfare, if need be. But a 
sudden blight falls upon his hope. The hand of God 
lies heavy on the child : and as the hour of separation 
draws nigh, it is given to the father to read, not the 
countenance only, but the heart and soul of that dear 
child: for in view of death, she acknowledges, with 
streaming eyes, and locked hands, it may be. that neve: 
— never — in all her life, had she meant or intended to 
do anything, merely for the comfort or help of her poo: 



FAITH. 69 

father ; but only for herself ; that she had never made 
a sacrifice in any way, nor manifested any self-denial, 
with a view to that dear father's approbation. 

How think you that father would feel, to hear such 
acknowledgments issuing from the lips of a dying child, 
in the full possession of her senses? How then would he 
be likely to see the character of that child ? Would not 
his whole opinion of her past life be changed ? Over- 
whelmed with a new sorrow, would he not feel as if he, 
himself, had lived in vain? But yesterday, he was ready 
to cry out for gladness, God, I thank thee that this dear 
child is not as others are — to say to her, as did the father 
of the Frodigal to his elder son — 'AH that I have is thine'! 
But to-day — having another child, perhaps — an outcast 
— does he not bethink himself once more of the wretched 
wanderer, who, after forsaking his father, and going afar 
off, and wasting his substance in riotous living, may yet 
be more worthy of a father's welcome ? How much 
anxiety, and terror, and sleepless watchfulness, in the 
past ! and how much of brightening hope, and cheerful 
trust, in the future ! now, that, in recalling the years 
that have gone by, he remembers many an act of self- 
denial, or generous devotion ; and that, with all the 
faults and follies of the poor outcast, he has never had 
reason to doubt his love. 

Put yourself in the place of that father. Almost 
broken-hearted, to find himself, and all his love, uncared 
for, by the daughter he had so long doted upon, and 
lived for : and now, ready to be comforted — to kill the 
fatted calf — to bring forth the robe, and the ring — and 
run and meet the wretched wanderer, who had forsaken, 
6* 



70 FAITH. 

and all "but forgotten, his aged father — and fall upon 
his neck and kiss him, or to lift up his voice and weep, 
on seeing him, while yet afar off. 

Works may be of such a nature, as to prove that faith 
underlies the whole foundation of character. A lowly, 
self-denying, self-sacrificing spirit, proved by charity, 
kindness, and brotherly-love — by visiting the fatherless 
and the widow ; by clothing the naked, and feeding the 
hungry — argues not only faith, but a wholesome, sound, 
effectual faith ; although, as proof ', it may never be con- 
clusive with God, any more than it would be with Man. 

You declare that you believe in my representations, 
but you refuse to act in correspondence with that belief: 
you tell me that you have perfect confidence in my 
prescription — but assertions are nothing to the purpose 
— if you would make me believe, you must follow it. In 
all the business of the world, you must commit yourself 
by some act, or how can we believe you ? 

And now, let us go to the Bible, and see, if we may, 
just what is required of us ; and with how little faith a 
man may hope to be saved. 

He is not required to believe in contradictions — the 
only impossibilities with God ; but he may be required 
to pass them by, for the present, and wait for explana 
tions hereafter : and Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, and 
La Place, if they were alive now, with the great Eos; 
telescope, to clear away the mysteries of Heaven, and 
solve the mightiest of problems, and reconcile the grcates 
contradictions, one after another, by merely sweeping! 
with a new power, the new field of vision — would wis 
they had suspended, or withheld their opinions, till the; 



FAITH. 71 

had taken, at least, one degree more, in the uppermost 
class of earthly intelligences. 

He is required, perhaps, to distinguish carefully, and 
constantly, between the hiowahle and the unknowable — 
as in questions about free agency — the origin of evil — 
the eternity of matter — the temptations of Him, who 
was tempted as a man, though without sin — the age of 
the world, and election — and to be satisfied with looking 
into the first, while here ; and leaving the last for here- 
after : else, every step in life may lead to new difficulty, 
new distress, or to other seeming errors and contradic- 
tions, or to long and bitter controversies. 

AVe are not required to believe against evidence ; nor 
without evidence — nor even with evidence, always ; nor 
to have so much faith as to remove mountains, to raise the 
dead, to cast out devils, to walk on the sea, or to seal up 
the heavens for three whole years ; but we are required to 
be honest and open-hearted ; to be diligent seekers after 
truth — and to ' have no other Gods but me' — the God 
of the Hebrews — the great I AM. AVe are not required 
to wrestle with angels, to beleaguer cities, to lie down 
with famished lions, nor to walk through flames, un- 
touched and unharmed. This kind of faith may not be 
required — though that, which is called obedience unto 
death, can never be wholly abandoned on earth, while 
the fires of persecution are unsmothered, or unextin- 
guished, and our testimony is wanted for the help of 
others. 

It is not a little strange, considering how men differ, 
that although our Saviour, from first to last, required of 
his followers faith, it was never faith alone — but always 



72 FAITH. 

faith, accompanied by works, or action : and that, not- 
withstanding the advantages they enjoyed, in their daily 
companionship with him, they were all wanting, from 
first to last, it would appear, in that essential pre-requi- 
site — faith. For example : 

Peter — that self-confident, over-zealous, boastful man 
— is no sooner assured that upon him the Church of 
Christ shall he built, and that he shall be entrusted 
with the keys of Heaven, if not of Hell, with the solemn 
declaration, that ' whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth, 
it shall be bound in Heaven ; and whatsoever thou shalt 
loose on earth, it will be loosed in Heaven' — than he 
rebukes his Lord and Master, withstanding him to the 
face, for saying it was necessary for him to go up to 
Jerusalem, and suffer many things, and be put to death, 
and raised again on the third day ; saying unto that 
Lord and Master, ' Be it far from thee, Lord ; this shall 
not be unto thee :' showing his want of a wholesome and 
reasonable faith. Whereupon the meek and lowly Jesus, 
moved with indignation, says, ' Get thee behind me, 
Satan ! thou art a snare unto me : for thou mindest not 
the things of G-od, but the things of men.' Matt, xvi : 
18—24. 

And so too, on seeing this Lord and Master walking 
on the sea, he calls out, as if to boast of his own strength 
among those who were frightened at the near approach 
of what they mistook for a spirit, ' Master ! if it be 
thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And he said, 
come ! So Peter went down from the vessel, and walked 
on the water toward the Saviour ; but seeing the wind 
boisterous, he was afraid ; and. as he began to sink, cried 



FAITH. 73 

out, Master ! save me ! And immediately Jesus stretched 
forth his hand, and saith unto him, thou of little 
faith! wherefore dost thou doubt?' Matt, xiv : 27 — 32. 

' thou of little faith'/ and yet, poor man ! he had 
faith enough to cast himself headlong into the sea, with 
a full assurance that, whether little or much, he had 
enough — and so it proved, till he began to sink ; and 
then it was found to be too little : and why ? Because 
he had forgotten the promise, and allowed himself to be 
frighted by the boisterous wind. He had faith enough 
to walk on the sea — to go toward the Saviour — but less 
than enough to reach him, without help. 

Was Peter himself deceived? Or did he hope to 
deceive the Master, when he girded his fisher's coat 
about him, and flung himself into the sea, at the bidding 
of his Lord ? What must have been the deep, strong 
persuasion of his heart, before he could bring himself 
to hazard so much ? And yet he was a self-deceiver ; 
and though the Saviour was never so nigh, as when his 
faith failed, and he felt himself sinking, and cried for 
help ; yet in truth, perhaps, he had relied, not so much 
on the heartiness of the faith he had undertaken to 
prove to others about him — for no proof was needed by 
the Saviour — as upon a secret, unacknowledged hope, 
that another yet, and yet another miracle, would be 
wrought, if needed to save him ; and that he would 
never be allowed to perish, though swallowed up alive, 
within reach of that almighty hand. 

We might peradventurc, try to persuade ourselves 
that he had faith enough, and to spare, if he had such 
faith ; but another, and a better judge than we are, 



74 FAITH. 

says to him ' thou of little faith'! — whereby we may 
learn that we must have not only faith enough — but 
faith of the right kind, or temper, to be safe ; else, like 
them that ' believe and tremble', we may find ourselves 
at the left of the Judge hereafter, and not so much for 
a lack of faith, as for a wrong faith. 

We are to believe ' with our hearts unto righteousness': 
And not only this, but we are to believe just in the way 
appointed, and in no other way, according to the evidence 
furnished, to satisfy the searcher of hearts — our Father. 

When told to stretch forth our right hand — to stretch 
forth our left, because we may not be able to see why it 
should make any difference, would be not only useless, 
but affronting, whatever might be our faith. If bidden 
to cast our net on the left side of the ship, would it be 
safe to cast it on the right side, though the waters were 
swarming with life ? When commanded to bathe in the 
Jordan — in the Jordan, we must bathe, and no-where 
else. No other waters will do — not even those of Abana 
and Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, though ' better than 
all the waters of Israel'. 

And why ? Because, with our faith, be it much or 
little, there must be obedience — action — or works ; and 
this, not so much to satisfy God, who knows whether 
we are sincere, without such proof, and is always ready 
to forgive honest misapprehension, as for the bystanders 
and witnesses, who, not being able to search the heart, 
cannot be satisfied, unless they see the conditions ful- 
filled, and the miraculous result following unquestionable 
and exact obedience. Look at the Saviour. When about 
saying to Lazarus ' Come forth'! he prays. 



FAITH. 75 

1 Father ! I thank thee that thou hast heard me ; 
and I know that thou hearest me always — "but, because 
of the people about me, I said this, that they may believe 
that thou hast sent me\ is the language of One who well 
understood his errand here, and never lost sight of his 
Father's business'. 

And so too, at the last supper. ' Thou shalt never wash 
my feet,' says Peter: And he meant what he said. 
But upon being reproved with great gentleness by the 
beloved Master, saying 'if I do not wash thee, thou hast 
no part with me' the remonstrance becomes a prayer, 
\ Lord ! Not my feet only, but my hands also, and my 
head !' John xiii : 9,10. 

And soon after this — or straightway, perhaps — for 
the narrative, and the order of succession would imply 
as much, this very ' Simon Teter saith unto him': ' Lord 
whither art thou going'? And when Jesus answered 
whither I am going, thou canst not go now, Peter saith 
Master ! why cannot I go with thee now ? I wiU lay 
down my life for thy sake' — and ' though they all forsake 
thee yet will not Z' 

1 Then Jesus saith unto him, " Thou wilt lay down 
thy life for my sake ! Verily I say unto thee, this day 
— in this very night — before the cock crow twice, thou 
wilt deny me thrice" — not thou shalt, as if long pre- 
determined, but thou tcilt. 

'But Peter said again and again — if I must die with 
thee, I will in no wise deny thee, my master. And 
so said they allV 

And yet, when the hour of trial and bitterness came, 
' they all forsook him and fled'! — even the boastful and 



76 FAITH. 

fiery Peter, and that beloved disciple, John, who had leaned 
upon his "bosom, at the supper, and slept, nevertheless, 
while his dear Master, who had set him on the watch, 
was weeping and praying by himself, and ' sweating as 
it were great drops of blood', a little way off ; though 
he came to himself at last, and was found at the foot of 
the cross, to hear the dying Saviour say, ' Behold thy 
mother'! and ' woman, behold thy son!' 

And why forsook they him, after all these tender 
warnings ? — why, but because of their unbelief ? And' 
'that the prophecies might be fulfilled'? 

And yet — remember — they were all forgiven ; and 
judging by what appears, over and over again, and every 
day of their lives, and perhaps every hour, if not seventy 
times seven, every hour. To John, he bequeaths a 
beloved mother, notwithstanding his unfaithfulness; and 
to Peter he says, not as before, ' Get thee behind me, 
Satan! Thou art an offence to me!' but, ' Simon! Simon 
Behold Satan hath obtained leave to sift you all like 
wheat ; but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith may 
not utterly forsake thee ; and when, at length, thou hast 
turned again, establish these, thy brethren.' 

And so it was : for he not only ' turned again,' but 
he lived in the faith, and he died in the faith, and 
greatly ' established his brethren' ' ; of course in theii 
belief, and not in their unbelief. 

And now, that we may be enabled to understan 
more clearly what is meant by faith — a saving faith- 
let us take up the following cases, with prayerful con 
sideration. 

.1. ■ And when thev were come to the multitude 



FAITH. 77 

man came up to him and said, " Master ! have mercy 
on my son. He is a lunatic, and sufTereth grievously ; 
for often lie falleth into the fire, and often into the 
water ; and I brought him to thy disciples ; but they 
could not cure him''' And why? 

'Then Jesus said, Perverse and unbelieving generation! 
How long must I be with you? How long shall I endure 
you ? Bring him hither to me. And Jesus rebuked the 
evil spirit, and it came out of him, and the child was 
well from that moment.' 

1 Then the disciples came up to him privately, and 
said, " Why could not we cast it out ?" 

' And Jesus said unto them, Because of your want of 
faith. For verily I say unto you, if ye have faith, as a 
grain of mustard- seed, ye will say to this very mountain, 
Depart hence, thither, and it will depart, and nothing 
will be impossible unto you.' 3Iatt. xvii : 14 — 21. 

Of course, therefore, we are bound to believe that even 
the disciples and apostles, and companions, the familiar 
friends, the brethren of his own household, and the 
constant witnesses of our Saviour's daily walk and 
conversation, had not faith, even as a grain of mustard- 
seed I Yet were they his. And they were constantly 
forgiven, upheld, counselled, strengthened and helped. 
Wherefore, though we may have little faith, even less 
than the least apparently required, why need we be 
disheartened, or greatly troubled ? If we are honest, 
and hopeful, be assured that He will answer for all our 
deficiencies. Our life, then, would be a continual prayer 
— ' Lord ! I believe — help thou mine unbelief !' 

2. ' And behold, a great tempest arose on the sea. so 
7 



78 FAITH. 

that the vessel was "beginning to be covered with the 
waves ; but he was asleep. And his disciples came up 
to him and raised him, saying, Master ! save lis ! or we 
are lost. And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful ? 
0, ye of little faith V 

3. \ The leper says, ' If thou wilt, thou canst make 
me clean.' And what is the answer ? 

' And Jesus, moved with pity, stretched out his hand 
and touched him, and saith unto him, I will — be thou 
clean.' Mark, i: 40, 41. 

Here, the faith of the poor sufferer could be judged 
of, by his coming to the Saviour and kneeling, and 
saying, ' if thou wilt, thou canst.' 

4. So too, with the woman that stole up to him, and 
touched his garment .* for she said to herself' — and not 
to others — ' if I may but touch his clothes, I shall be 
whole.' 

' And he said unto her, Daughter ! Thy faith hath 
made thee whole. Go in peace, and be whole of thy 
plague.' Mark, v: 34. 

But who of all that multitude pressing about the 
Saviour, and thronging his path, hears the whisper, ■ if I 
may but touch his clothes, I shall be whole'? None but 
the Saviour himself, perhaps ; otherwise the disciples, or 
bystanders, might have made we.y for her. notwithstand- 
ing her uncleanness — nay, the rather, because of hei 
uncleanness. 

But lo ! ' feeling that virtue had gone out of him, 
he turns and says, ' who touched my clothes'? His 
disciples say unto him. 'thou seest the multitude throng- 
ing thee, and sayest thou, who touched me T — thereby 



FAITH. 79 

implying, that many had touched him ; and yet no 
virtue had gone out of him till then ; for lack of a 
wholesome and proper faith, perhaps. Mere curiosity 
would not bring down the blessing. But further — 

' He looked round about to see her that had done 
this thing'. Therefore he knew it was a woman, at 
whose touch virtue had gone forth. ' But she, fearing 
and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and 
fell down before him, and told him all the truth*. And 
this, though very little at most, was enough. Her faith, 
whether much or little, had made her whole. And the 
bystanders must have been well satisfied, because of the 
fear and trembling they saw, which could not well be 
counterfeited. 

5. And so with him that led his son, having a dumb 
spirit, into the presence of Jesus. He had faith, and 
proved it by his behavior. But watch the brethren, 
and compare his faith, simple, unquestioning and unhes- 
itating, with theirs. 

' The declarations which I am uttering to you', says 
the Saviour to them, ' are the breath of life. But some of 
you believe not ; for Jesus knew before this, who believed 
not, and who would deliver him up'. John vi: 6rt, 65, 
or, according to our version, ' for Jesus knew from the 
beyiniung who they were that believed not, and who 
should betray him.' 

6. And so with Simon Peter, the fisherman. Look 
at his faith. How simple, how childlike, how sublime! 
'Master! we have toiled all night, and have taken 
nothing ; nevertheless, at thy word, I will let down the 
net'. And what followed ? 



80 FAITH. 

'When they had this done, they inclosed a great mul- 
titude of fishes, and their net brake'. Luke v: 5, 6. 

Simon Peter is commanded to launch out into the 
ieep, and to cast his net on the right side of the vessel. 
He obeyed, though remonstrating, as usual, with a 
4 nevertheless' : but suppose he had cast the net on the 
other, or left side, think you he would have caught any 
fish? 

And what other result would have been likely to 
follow ? Want of obedience would have been want of 
faith, not only to the bystanders, but to the Saviour 
himself. The miracle would have been defeated — and 
the Saviour dishonored — for a leading disciple would 
have put the Master to open shame, and proved him 
powerless before the multitude — just when it was expe- 
dient that all should be satisfied of his power — for how 
should they be supposed to know, that it would make 
any difference, on which side he threw the net. when 
the disciple himself, who was best acquainted with the 
Master, had proved that, in his judgment, there would 
be no difference ? — and if the fish did not come up with 
the net, on the left side, how were they that stood 
waiting the issue, to account for the failure ? 

Simon Peter may have honestly believed in his heart, 
if you will, that it could make no possible difference on 
which side of the ship he cast his net; and as honestly, 
that a miraculous draught would follow, ' nevertheless* \ 
But what think you ? 

And if it had — what then ? TVhy then, there woul 
have been, not only no proof in favor, but much a gains 
the supernatural authority of the Great Teacher. Pis 



FAITH. 81 

obedience would have triumphed openly — and the result 
would have been regarded as wholly accidental, and the 
Master, as having 'paltered with them in a double sense' 
— and if not as one having a devil, perhaps — for with 
that he had already been charged — certainly as a juggler 
and soothsayer, who had happened to guess pretty near 
the truth, for once. 

And suppose the man with the withered hand, believ- 
ing it impossible to obey, had not even tried to stretch 
forth his hand — would the cure have been wrought ? 
Would not his unbelief be proved by his not trying ? 
He might have persuaded himself that he was sincere 
— and the Saviour, who knew his very thoughts, would 
of course know ; yet, how were the people about him to 
know that he believed in his heart, unless he obeyed, or 
tried to obey ? 

Here, after commanding the man to stand forth, and 
looking round upon the Pharisees, being angry, and at 
the same time grieved, for the blindness of their hearts, 
he said unto the man, ' Stretch forth thine hand ! And 
he stretched it forth, and his hand was restored whole 
as the other.' Mark, iii : 4, 5. 

And so with the man sick with the palsy, and borne 
of four. ' And as they could not all come near him, 
because of the multitude, they took up the roof of the 
house where he was, by forcing open the door, and let 
down the bed on which the sick man lay. Now, when 
Jesus saw their faith' — faith proved by their works — 
and not the faith of the sick man, for he was helpless, 
and speechless, and passive, ' he says to the sick man, 
"Child ! thy sins be forgiven thee !" 



82 FAITH. 

1 Then some of the Scribes, sitting there, "were reason- 
ing with themselves, (not one with another). Why doth 
this man speak thus wickedly ? "Who can forgive sins, 
but G-od only ? And Jesus, knowing at once in his own 
mind, that they were thus reasoning with themselves, 
said unto them, Why have you these reasonings in your 
hearts '? For which is easier. To say to the sick man, 
thy sins be forgiven thee ; or to say, Arise ! and take 
up thy bed and walk ? But that ye may know' — not 
my disciples ; for they know this already — but ' that ye 
may know the Son of Man to have authority upon earth 
to forgive sins — then he saith to the sick man, Arise ! 
and take up thy bed, and go home ! And he arose 
immediately, and took up his bed, and went out before 
them all.' Mark, ii: 4—12. Luke, v: 22—26. 

Suppose that man had refused — not to take up his 
bed — but to try — and that was all required of him. He 
was to show his faith to the bystanders — not to the 
Saviour — by his works ; in other words, by instanta- 
neous, unqualified obedience. 

So, when he blasted the fig-tree : ' Let no fruit grow 
on thee henceforward forever ! And immediately it 
withered away : and when his disciples saw it. they 
were amazed' — but wherefore amazed, if they were be- 
lievers ? — ' and they said, How soon the fig-tree withered 
away! Jesus answered and said unto them, Yerily I 
say unto you. if ye have faith and doubt not. ye will not 
only do like this of the fig-tree ; but if ye say even to 
this mountain, Be thou removed, and cast into the sea, 
it shall be done. And whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, 
with faith, that ye will receive.' Matt, xxi : 19 — __. 



FAITH. 83 

And he says moreover, Ye have not, because ye ask not : 
or, because ye ask amiss. 

Did Lazarus obey ? Did the spirit of the dead come 
back to bear witness of the Saviour ? or was it only 
passive and obedient matter ? If Lazarus did not obey 
— and was unable — then it was not required of him, 
for the satisfaction of the people : and the summoning 
was answered by passive and obedient matter, with which 
Lazarus himself, and the spirit of Lazarus, had nothing 
to do. 

As wc draw near the last act of the awful drama, the 
first scene of which opens with these words, ' In the 
Beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth ; 
and the earth was without form and void ; and darkness 
was upon the face of the deep ; and the Spirit of God 
morcd upon the fare of the waters? we hear the disciples 
saying — ' Lo ! now thou speakest plainly, and speakest 
not in proverbs', (or, without any dark speech at all) ; 
now arc we sure that thou knowest all things, and 
needest not that any man should ask thee. By this 
we believe that thou earnest forth from God. Jesus 
answered them and said — Do ye now believe?' John, 
xvi : 30, 31. 

Observe the language. 'Xow we believe', say they. 
'By this' we believe ; now 'we are sure'. Consequently, 
they had not believed till then, and were not sure. And 
so the Saviour himself understood them to mean ; for he 
says in reply, 'Now, ye believe !' 

And this, be it remembered, was just before the scat- 
tering, and the desertion. And though they professed 
to believe now, to see clearly, to feel sure, and to Jmow 



84 FAITH. 

that lie came of G-od, yet they all forsook him and fled ; 
though they had been warned by the Saviour himself. 
in the language of ancient prophecy — ' I will smite the 
shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered 
abroad', Matt, xxvi : 32 — they all denied and deserted 
him ; and while Peter, the mightiest of all, cursed and 
swore, when charged with companionship, and told that 
his speech betrayed him, and that this fellow was also 
among them — yet did he no worse than the others — for 
they all forsook him — they all fled — and they all mocked 
poor Mary, that Believer, with all a woman's faith, when 
she brought to them, the long promised greeting from 
the grave. Nor would they believe the two that were 
sent by Jesus himself ; and most of them would not take 
the trouble to see for themselves — a very common case, 
even now — so fixed and rooted was their unbelief. 

What had they been praying for, all this time ? what 
looking for ? what hoping for ? — if it was indeed true 
that they understood him at last, and believed him at 
last, when he spoke plainly, and not in proverbs, nor in 
dark sayings ? Did they believe in prayer ? 

But again : ' If G-od so clothe the grass of the field, 
which to-day is, and to-morrow will be cast into the 
furnace, will he not much more clothe you, ye of little 
faith /' Here the Disciples had come to him. ' and he 
opened his mouth and taught them' — them, the Disciples 
— not strangers, but the Disciples, who most needed hell 
Matt, vi : 30. 

Yet all these men were loud in their professions of 
faith. And among them were Peter, who. after rebuking 
his Master, deserted and betraved him — for what is 



FAITH. 85 

denial, under such a question, but "betraying ? — and the 
doubtful Thomas, who would not believe — no, not until 
he had thrust his hand into the side of that uprisen 
Saviour he had followed so long, and been taught by, so 
kindly and so constantly. And these were types of all 
the rest ; for, while speaking with him, after his death, 
and face to face, what say they ? ' We trusted that it 
was he which should have redeemed Israel.' Luke, 
xxiv: 21. And when he suddenly appeared in their 
midst, after death, and said to them, ' Peace be unto 
you I' how did they receive him? They were 'terrified 
and affrighted, and supposed they had seen a spirit.' 
Luke, xxiv : 37. And they would not believe Mary, 
though he had promised plainly, and over and over again, 
to re-appear after death : nor did Mary herself believe 
— for what says the record ? ' She went with the women 
who had prepared spices and ointments to embalm the 
body.' Luke, xxiii : 56, and xxiv : 1. And she inquired, 
when the body was not to be found in the sepulchre, 
where they had laid it ? 

And then, as we have already seen, she went to his 
companions, ' who were mourning and weeping ; but 
they, though they heard that he was alive, and had been 
seen by her, believed not.' 1 Mark, xvi : 11. 'And not 
even the brethren believed on him,' says John, vii: 5. 
And whether these were Brethren according to the flesh, 
or Brethren according to the spirit, they were Lube- 
lievers. 

1 But after this, he showed himself another day to two 
of them, as they were walking, on their way to the 
country, and they went and told the rest,' who 'would not 



86 FAITH. 

"believe even them !' Mark, xvi : 13. They had not only 
no faith in their Master, therefore ; hut no faith in one 
another, and very little in themselves. 

Yet further, and even to the last, we have the same 
pitiable want of honest faith ; for grieved and sore with 
disappointment, after the messages he had sent were un 
heeded, at last he showed himself to the eleven, and 
upbraided them all with their want of faith, and their 
hardness of heart, for not believing them that had seen 
him, after he was raised up. Mark, xvi : 11,12. 14, 

' But the eleven disciples went into Galilee to the 
mountain that Jesus had appointed, and when they saw 
him, they worshipped him — but some doubted. Matt, 
xxviii : 1 7. 

To know what is the faith, we must have at our peril 
the faith we are all seeking for, we must call up the 
Hebrew lawgiver, Abraham, and Elijah, who sent up a 
messenger seven times to look for the signs of fulfilment 
while he himself continued in prayer, with his head 
bowed between his knees, and after all was perfectly sat. 
isfied with a little cloud rising out of the sea. no largel 
than a man's hand, and so sure that he hears the sound 
of abundance of rain, like the going of the wind in th( 
tops of the mulberry-trees, that he bids Ahab get readj 
his chariots, and flee for his life, lest the rain stop him. 

All these mighty men prove their faith by their works. 
And so did the leper, the man with the withered arm 
the woman that touched the garment of the Saviour, anc 
the centurion. And so did Joseph and Daniel. Such i: 
the faith required ; a reasonable, not a reasoning faith 
a submissive, not a questioning faith ; such as a mar 



FAITH. 87 

light show, while professing to "believe that he could 
reathe in a fiery furnace, by entering forthwith, and 
rithout flinching or quailing, instead of reiterating his 
elief, and excusing himself with cant, or vociferation. 

Thus much for the Bible history of what we call faith, 
say nothing about miraculous faith — active or passive 
— or theological faith — but plain, Scriptural faith, 
rhich all may understand, without help from theolo- 
;ians. Every-where, and at all times, we see, that with 
Icriptural faith, to render it efficient, there must be 
o-operation. How could a mother help a child — a 
thysician his patient — a lawyer his client — without co- 
peration ? And how could there be co-operation without 
aith ? Something must always be done — it is never 
nough to say : something, however little, to put us in 
ommunication with our Helper — to prove our willing- 
Less, our trust, and hopefulness. "What say you now, 
ay friend, is not this reasonable and just? And if so 
nth Man, why not with God ? 

No works whatever — no satisfying manifestations, can 
here be without faith. 1 do not say, without a saving 
'aith, nor without such faith as God requires. But un- 
ess we have some faith — of some kind — we are speechless 
tnd motionless, and not only helpless, but hopeless. 

By moving and acting, and in no other way, do we, 
)r can we, prove our faith ; or show the character and 
ralue of our faith, to our fellow-man. 

Works are not only the evidence, but they are the 
mly evidence of faith, which Man is capable of under- 
standing, or believing. 



88 FAITH. 

As with Faith, so with Love, Hope, and Charity : all 
passions, and all emotions. "What is the language of 
Earth, every-where, and at all times ? Professions are 
nothing — pledges and promises nothing — actions every- 
thing. 

But, whatever maybe the nature of the faith required; 
and whether much or little — nothing seems better estab- 
lished, nor more reasonable, than that some evidence 
thereof must be given — by somebody — though a stran- 
ger. The works demanded, are not always required of 
the party helped. Sometimes, it would appear to be 
enough that others should have the right kind, and the 
proper amount of faith, if it be openly acknowledged, 
and honestly proved by action. 

For example : In the case of the sick man healed of 
the palsy, it was not his faith, but their faith who 
brought him, and let him down through the top of the 
house, that moved the Saviour. 

A.nd then, there was the blind man. He did not go 
to Jesus. But, as he and the disciples are passing by, 
the disciples asked Jesus, saying, ' Master, who sinned ? 
This man or his parents ? that he was born blind ? 
Jesus answered, Neither was he blind for his own sin, 
nor that of his parents ; but that the worJcs of God might 
be manifested in him. * * * * When he had said 
this, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, 
and spread the clay upon the eyes of the blind man, and 
said unto him, Go wash thine eyes in the pool of Siloam, 
(which means sent). So he went and washed his eyes, 
and came back with his sight'. Here, so far as we 



FAITH. 89 

know, there were no professions — Ibut there was what the 
Saviour had already shown to he worth infinitely more — 
action — obedience. 

And after this, Christ met with him, and said unto 
him, ' Dost thou believe on the Son of God ?' 

And what is the poor creature's answer ? — Weigh it 
well. ' Who is he, Master, that I may believe on him ? 
Jesus said unto him, It is he whom thou both seest and 
hearest talking with thee. Then the man said : I believe, 
Master ! and fell down before him.' John, ix : 2, 6, 
6—38. 

But a still stranger case may be found in John : where 
a party, without professing to have any faith, or even to 
know who it was that had helped him, though able to 
see for himself, was cured. The narrative itself, without 
change or abbreviation, must be allowed to tell the 
story. 

Now there is in Jerusalem, at the sheep gate, a bath 
called Bethesda, with five porches, in which a multitude 
of infirm people were lying, of blind, lame, withered ; 
expecting the motion of the water. For an Angel at a 
certain season used to bathe himself in this water, and 
thereby trouble it ; then he, who first went in, after this 
troubling of the water, became well of whatever disease 
affected him. 

' Now there was a man who had been thirty-eight years 

■in his infirmity. Jesus seeing him lie there, and 
knowing that he had been a long time so, saith unto 
him : Dost thou desire to be healed ? The infirm man 
answered, Sir ! I have no man, when the water is trou- 



90 FAITH. 

bled, to put me into the bath ; and while I am coming, 
another getteth down before me. 

' Jesus saith unto him : Arise ! take up thy bed and 
walk ! And the man became well immediately, and took 
up his bed, and was walking. 

' Xow that day was the Sabbath : the Jews therefore 
were saying to him that had been cured : it is the Sab- 
bath : it is not lawful for thee to take up thy bed. 

■ He answered them : He who made me well, said unto 
me : Take up thy bed and walk. 

' Then they said unto him, "Which is the man, who 
said unto thee, Take up thy bed and walk ? 

' But he that was healed knew not ivhich it was: for 
Jesus had slipped away, as there was a multitude in the 
place. 

' Afterwards, Jesus findeth him in the temple, and 
said unto him : Behold ! thou art become well : sin no 
more, lest something worse befall thee. 

' The man went and told the Jews that it was Jesus 
that made him well.' John, t : 2 — 15. 

Where, I would now ask, was this man's faith ? He 
made no professions — he did not even know Jesus — but 
he obeyed. 

Think of this ! After waiting thirty -eight years fur 
somebody to help him ; after thirty-eight years of dis- 
appointment and sorrow, day after day, and month after 
month, perhaps, upon the very rerge of restoration — but 
one single step being needed — that step is taken at the 
bidding of a stranger ; and lo ! he is instantly trans 
figured and restored ! 



FAITH. 91 

Obedience therefore, in a small matter, without pro- 
fession, may prevail, where the profession of a life would 
he worthless. 

And then, there was the notable cure wrought by 
Peter and John for the beggar, who, so far from having 
any faith, did not even expect help in that way, but 
alms. Acts, iii : G ' In the name of the Lord Jesus of 
Nazareth, I command thee to rise' — lifting him by the 
right hand, as he spoke : so that, if little faith was 
required sometimes, none at all was enough here : and 
the obedience, after all, was nothing more than acqui- 
escence, or non-resistance, when Peter lifted him up — at 
most, it was only what has been sufficient heretofore, 
with thousands and tens of thousands, from the dying 
thief upon the cross, to the death-bed of the last broken- 
hearted and speechless of God's creatures — he looked up : 
for what says the narrative ? 

When Teter and John fastened their eyes upon him, 
and told him to look up, he obeyed, or gave heed unto 
them, expecting to receive something.' 

Yet more : Although it is the common belief, and we 
hear it said almost every day, that while the Saviour 
wrought his miracles without help, and in his own name, 
the Apostles wrought theirs, never in their own names, 
but always with the help, and in the name of Jesus of 
Nazareth ; yet we have at least five cases, where they 
were wrought by Peter and Paul, without mentioning 
Jesus of Nazareth, and of course without any mani- 
festation of the faith required, by the parties helped, 
or troubled — faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, that is — so 
far as appears. 



92 FAITH. 

In the case of Tabitha, lying dead — incapable of 
belief therefore — ' Peter kneeled down and prayed ; 
and turning to the body said, Tabitha, arise ! So she 
opened her eyes, and upon seeing Peter, sat up. Then 
he gave her his hand and raised her up ; and called the 
Saints and the Widows, and presented her alive.' Acts, 
ix: 40, 41. 

In the case of Elymas, the sorceror, and the scoffing 
Unbeliever, if there ever was one, ' Paul, filled with a 
holy spirit, set his eyes upon him, and said, " 0, full of 
all guile* and of all craftiness : son of the devil" — plain 
speaking, it must be acknowledged — "enemy of all 
righteousness ! wilt thou not cease making crooked the 
ways of the Lord ? therefore the hand of the Lord is 
now against thee, and thou wilt be blind, without seeing 
the sun for a season." When immediately a mist and a 
darkness fell upon him, and he was going about in 
search of a guide.' Acts, xiii : 10. But Paul's faith 
was enough — like Peter's, in the judgment of- instanta- 
neous death upon Ananias and Sapphira — though the 
name of Christ was not mentioned. 

And then too, in the case of ' the lame man of Lystra', 
who had no use of his feet, having been lame from his 
birth, and never walked. He was listening to the speech 
of Paul : who looked steadfastly at the man ; and per- 
ceiving that he had faith to be healed, said with a loud 
voice, 'Stand upright on thy feet ! And he rose up with 
a leap, and began to walk.' Acts, xiv : S — 11. 

And again, when Paul restores Eutychus. who -sitting 
in the window, as Paul discoursed so long, was seized 
with a deep sleep ; and having fallen backwards as he 



FAITH. 93 

was sleeping, tumbled from the third story to the bottom, 
and was taken up dead. Then Paul went down and fell 
upon him, and as he closely embraced him, said : Do not 
disturb yourselves, for his life is in him. * * * And 
they brought away the young man alive, and were not a 
little comforted.' Acts, xx: 10 — 12. 

How much faith, after all then, is needed? We may be 
' weak in faith' — but how weak — to be safe ? ' Him that 
is weak in faith? says Paul, ' receive ye, but not to doubt- 
ful disputations.' Eom. xiv: 1. The Apostle had a whole- 
some dread of mere controversy — or doubts and reason- 
ings — though always well prepared, and 'armed in proof.' 

Let us now see the effect of unbelief — or a want of 
wholesome and proper faith, a reasonable faith, on Jesus 
himself. As with mortals, in the great business of life, 
so with him. He needed help, sympathy and co-opera- 
tion. See here : 

' And he could there do no mighty work, save that he 
laid his hand upon a few sick, and healed them.' And 
why? 'Because of their unbelief ' Mark, vi: 5. 

And then he marvelled. And wherefore ? Because 
by their unbelief, they disqualified him — they disabled 
him. He could do no mighty works there, because he 
had no help. There was on their part, no willingness, 
no heartiness, no co-operation : They were not to he 
helped in spite of themselves — but partly because of 
themselves. They were to be saved with — and not 
without — their own co-operation. 

What then is faith ? Under the earlier dispensation, 
how did it differ from that which was required under 
the new ? And how was it then proved ? 
8* 



94 



FAITH. 



Had Moses and Aaron faith enough, apart from their 
belief? What says that earlier Scripture ? ' And the 
Lord spake unto Moses and Aaron. Because ye believed 
me not, to sanctify me in the eyes of the children of 
Israel, therefore ye shall not bring this congregation 
into the land which I have given them'. Xumb. xx : 12. 

•' Yet in this thing, ye did not believe the Lord, your 
God.' Dent. 1 : 32. 

And so too, where was the "belief — where the faith 
of Moses, when he said ' The people among who I am 
are six hundred thousand footmen ; and thou hast said, 
I will give them flesh to eat a whole month. Shall the 
flocks, and the herds he slain for them to suffice them 
Or shall all the fish of the sea be gathered together to 
suffice them?' Xunib xi : 21. 22. 

And where was the belief, and where the faith of Abra 
ham, the Father of the faithful, when, having the promise 
that a child should be given to him in his old age. he 
•fell upon his face, and laughed I and said in his heart, 
shall a child be born unto him that is a hundred years 
old ? And shall Sarah that is ninety years old. bear V 

And Sarah too — such was her unbelief, that when 
she heard the promise at the door of the tent, she laughed 
within herself, and thereby manifested her unbelief, as 
her husband himself had, in a most offensive and affront- 
ing manner. And yet both were forgiven ; both were 
abundantly blessed, and the faith of Abraham was 
counted unto him for righteousness. 

Unbelief therefore among the earliest Fathers of man 
kind, with obedience, would appear to have been mor< 
acceptable to God, than belief, however strongly - 



FAITH. 9 5 

or constantly asseverated, if unaccompanied by obedience. 
Of old, as now, the doers of the word were God's people, 
whatever might be their professions. Everywhere, from 
that day to this, He that feareth the Lord and worketh 
rightousness, is accepted. 

Belief, on the contrary, unaccompanied by acts of 
obedience, may but aggravate our condemnation : for 
\ faith without obedience is not faith' — and ' we know 
thee, Jesus of Nazareth', say the evil spirits, who obeyed 
him — ' Thee we know ; but who are these ? And fell 
upon them and tore them.' 

And again : ' Thou art the Son of God !' they cry, 
when they are set free. 'Suffer us to go into the swine.' 
Here, we have not only belief, but obedience — and even 
prayer. Being of them that ' believe and tremble', 
they obey him, when they are cast out, and come forth 
at his bidding, and ask leave to go elsewhere ; and 
I confess him with their mouths'. 

But had they faith ? — faith in the scriptural sense ? 

To believe in the Lord Jesus cannot be enough there- 
fore. Even to obey him is not enough — though obedience 
may be ' better than sacrifice' — there must be a partic- 
ular kind of belief, or what is called faith ; and a partic- 
ular kind of obedience, or they will not be sufficient. 
Of that we may be sure. 

There must also be open acknowledgment of such 
belief — or confession, for what says the great Apostle to 
the Gentiles, ' If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the 
Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God 
hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved', 
for, with the heart, Man believeth unto righteousness ; 



96 FAITH. 

and with the month confession is made unto salvation. 
Eomx: 9, 10. 

But the devils themselves did all this. They believed 
— they obeyed — and they confessed with the mouth : 
confession therefore, though coupled with obedience and 
belief — such belief as the wicked have — was not enough. 

But ; although we may La unable to give a clear and 
comprehensive, or exhausting definition of faith — of one 
thing we are certain. Without such faith, whatever it 
may be, we can do nothing, and have no safe ground of 
hope. 

"We may profess to believe that we cannot do this, 
that, or another thing, even while we profess to try. 
But we are deceiving ourselves. "We should no more 
try, if we believed it impossible, than we should try to 
upheave a mountain, or overthrow a pyramid. There 
is involved a sort of childish self-contradiction in all 
such pretences, however serious, or plausible, or often 
repeated. ' I did not get so much for my cargo as I 
expected — and I knew I should not,' is the language of 
all those who waver in their faith, who are ' unstable 
as water,' and who, for that very reason, must not expect 
to be heard, or believed, when they pretend to lift up 
their hearts in prayer, with hopeful trust. 

They are much like that minister who prayed fervently 
for rain at the desire of his people in a season of long 
continued drought. On leaving the church, he was met 
in the door-way by one of his parishioners with informa- 
tion that a cloud was coming up in the right quarter, 
and that large drops were falling. Heaven forbid ! I 
forgot my cloak ! was the answer. 



FAITH. 97 

"Where was that- man's faith ? or the faith of those 
brethren who had been praying for the liberation of Peter 
'without ceasing'? and who, nevertheless, like the minis- 
ter, were taken by surprise when their prayers were 
heard ; for ' Peter stood knocking at the gate where many 
were gathered together praying ; and they would not 
believe, but rebuked the damsel, Khoda, who knowing 
the voice, opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in 
and told how Peter stood there — saying to her "Thou 
art mad." But she constantly affirmed that it was even 
eo. Then said they, It is his angel.' 

Where was the faith of such brethren — or of that 
minister ; and what proportion did it bear in either, to 
the patience of that God they had been mocking with 
continual prayer ? 

Let us be comforted, nevertheless, remembering the 
faith of Peter — very little though it was — when the 
Saviour put forth his hand to help him. But for the 
misgiving that threatened to engulph him, he had not 
felt the nearness of the Saviour, nor the touch of his 
hand. Such, it may be, are the wholesome effects of 
alternation. To be cured of anything, we must be sick. 
To be comforted, we must be troubled. Untroubled 
faith, is not faith — nor is that faith, which never falters 
—like the righteousness that needs no help, and there- 
fore, asks for no help : and for that very reason, if for no 
other, cannot be strengthened, nor comforted. 

Nor must we ever be disheartened. It may be, that 
like the unbelieving Thomas, we may be ready to die 
with our Master, even while we do not believe. Often- 
times, it may be easier to die, than to believe, 



98 FAITH. 

And If so — God help us ! here and hereafter ! and show 
us, "before it shall "be too late, how to understand the 
great mystery ; and not only what is the true faith, and 
how much is to he required of us — and how little — but 
whether obedience even unto death, or confession with 
the mouth, or acknowledgment, and prayer, will ever be 
accepted, any -where, at any time — instead of a proper 
faith ! 

It may be, that we are all deceiving ourselves. It 
may be, that we have always more faith, by far, than we, 
give ourselves credit for — else, how could we ever be 
obedient unto death ? And it may be, that the God 
who hath so loved us, that he gave his only-begotten 
Son to die for us, may only require to be loved and 
obeyed. 

1 Simon Peter ! lovest thou me ? 

1 Yea Master, thou knowest that I love thee. 

' He saith unto him, Feed my Iambs! 

1 He saith to him again, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest 
thou me ? 

■ He said unto him, Yea, Lord ; thou knowest that I 
love thee. 

' He saith unto him, Feed my sheep ! 

' He saith unto him the third time. Simon, son o: 
Jonas, lovest thou me ? 

Peter was grieved because he said unto him the thinj. 
time, Lovest thou me ? And he said unto him. Lord 
thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that I lov 
thee. 

1 Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep.' John, xxi 
15, &c. &Q. 






FAITH. 99 

Here we have the whole question settled for us ; and 
for all who may come after us, "by the highest authority 
— an authority which may not be gainsaid, and from 
which there is no appeal, here nor hereafter. 

He that doeth the word, is accepted — not he that 
sayeth, and doeth not. Visiting the widow and the 
fatherless, helping the brethren, working righteousness 
— are not these the sacrifices we are called to offer ? 

Not sacrifice, but prayer : not the cattle upon a thou- 
sand hills — for they arc His ; nor the fullness of the 
Earth, for that also belongs to Jehovah ; but a loving, 
hopeful and sorrowing heart : for after all, it is with the 
heart we believe, and with the heart only, whatever we 
may do with the head ; just as we love with the heart, 
and yearn with the heart, and never with the head : so 
that, notwithstanding all that may be said of a saving 
faith, it is declared, that ' He who worketh righteous- 
ness and fearcth the Lord is accepted': then — going a 
step higher, and as if to encourage the over-fearful — 
that 'perfect love casteth out fear.'' 

And if so, what can be clearer, and what more need 
we to have, or to know ? 

How often are we wounded by the spent arrows of thy 
strength, Lord ! help us, we pray thee, against 
ourselves ; that we may be more than a match for the 
great Adversary of Man ! 

How long shall the far-off thunderings of prophecy 
be unheeded, before they break over the nations to ful- 
filment ? — ' Lord ! how long ?' 



100 A CHANGE OF HEART. 



A CHANGE OF HEAET. 

4 He looketh on the Earth and it trembleth : He toucheth the 
Hills and they smoke/ Ps. civ : 32. 

You profess to be a- reasonable, and therefore, a 
reasoning man, or woman. You desire to know the 
truth ; and have no time for investigating the systems 
of theology, nor even the elementary treatises, that have 
been recommended to you. 

"Without stopping to inquire why it is, that you have 
time for every-thing else ; and no time for that, which, as 
a reasonable, and therefore a reasoning man, or woman, 
you must acknowledge to be of great importance, and 
peradventure, of greater importance than all you now 
most value, and are most occupied with : nor why it is, 
that you are satisfied with guess-work, where you have 
so much at hazard ; or with second-hand opinions, when 
you may have all that you need, upon authority not to bei 
questioned, if you will but ask for it, and wait patiently 
for the answer ; let me try to deal with some few of the 
many troublesome, though allowable questions, you may 
have heretofore propounded — to yourself, perhaps, if n< 
to others — and to do it reverentially, in the fear of th< 
Lord, according to the best of my knowledge and belief.1 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 101 

I might refer you to the Bible — for the law of your 
case ; but you have always had the Bible, and the law. 
I might urge you to a diligent study of the Gospels, for 
another and a better hope, sure and steadfast ; but you 
profess to be already acquainted with their teaching, 
and to know, at least by hearsay, what is meant by the 
comforts and consolations of the Gospel. I might ask 
what you can possibly hope from delay : whether you 
are likely to have more time to-morrow — or the day after 
— or ever ; a lighter load of transgressions to carry, a heart 
more accessible to the tender solicitations, and gentle 
remonstrances — I will not say of God's holy Spirit, lest 
you may not be prepared for the question — but of the 
spirit within you, and of the spirits around you : God's 
ministering angels on Earth, who come to you in love 
or friendship, to plead with you for your soul ; but you 
are familiar with all these questions : you have weighed 
them all, over and over again : and you acknowledge, it 
may be with tears in your eyes — for such things have 
happened, and are happening every day, among those 
who are believed to be untroubled — that, inasmuch as 
you have more and more to answer for, with every breath 
you draw, matters are growing worse and worse with you, 
ewry hour ; and that while your wants are increasing, 
your hopes, and even your chances, are diminishing, day 
by day. 

Under such circumstances, the path of duty lies 
unclouded before me, as a Beginner. I am not allowed 
to say ' Ah Lord God ! Behold I cannot speak, for I am 
a child'. I am to do the best I may, with prayer and 
hope : trusting that He. whom I profess to follow with 
9 



102 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

somewhat of a child-like faith, will forgive me for 
undertaking to do what I am so poorly qualified for ; 
and that, come what may, there are those of the great 
multitude within hearing, who will neither misunder- 
stand, nor misrepresent me. 

Perhaps you desire to know what is understood among 
Believers, hy a change of heart ; how that change is 
manifested to others : and what are the unmistakeable 
signs of its approach, progress, and fulfilment ; for these 
questions are always astir within the secret chamhers of 
the mind, among thoughtful men and women ; and it is 
with such only that I now have to do. 

There are, I am led to believe, no unmistakeable signs ; 
no signs that is, which may not be misapprehended or 
counterfeited ; no outward manifestations, which may 
not mislead our fellow-man. 

A long life spent in praise and prayer and thanksgiv- 
ing ; in all the outward acts of obedience and faith : in 
works of charity, self-denial and love, a death-bed of 
untroubled resignation, or triumphant joy — all these 
may be mistaken by the Unbeliever, and will be mis- 
understood, or misrepresented, by the Scoffer. 

And yet, beyond all question, a change of heart may 
be of such a nature as to prove itself to the under- 
standings of all who honestly desire to know the truth. 
and are accustomed to weighing evidence ; in other 
words, to judging of men's motives, and purposes, by what 
are called appearances ; there being no other evidence 
accessible to man: for what are actions, what is behavior, 
and what are professions, but appearances ? Like a 
self-evident truth, or a notarial seal, under the law 9 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 103 

nations, a change of heart must be allowed to prove 
itself ; because incapable of higher authentication. 

For example : There is a proud, passionate, imperious 
man — a man of the world perhaps — a self-satisfied, 
unambitious man, or ambitious only of that approbation 
which he, himself, and all who are dependent on him, 
are ever ready to supply : frank and fearless ; in good 
health and easy circumstances ; attentive to business, 
whatever it may be, and faithful in the discharge of every 
trust and every duty, according to the judgment of those 
who are best acquainted with him : arrogant, rash, and 
with slight provocation, both quarrelsome and profane : 
and yet, with these and other like faults of temper, 
acknowledged to be magnanimous and forgiving, warm- 
hearted and generous ; very much in earnest for the help 
of others, and always among the foremost, in every large 
and well-considered public enterprise : in short, judging 
by appearances — our only ground of judgment here — a 
strictly mural, though not a religious man ; active and 
useful, though belonging to no party — as a party — in 
Church or State ; upon the ground that whatever others 
may do, he cannot bring himself ' to give up to the few 
what was meant for mankind' — yet he seldom goes to 
church ; and never, as lie, himself, acknowledges, never 
so much for his own sake, as for the sake of others ; lest 
his example might be misunderstood or perverted, if he 
should not be seen there at all. Xor is he ever to be 
met with, or heard of, at any other kind of religious 
meeting ; or occupied with religious conversation, or 
associating with religious people, or reading a religious 
book. 



104 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 



Though greatly prospered and blessed, year after year, 
no human being perhaps, not even his wife, the pleasant 
counsellor, and faithful companion of his early manhood, 
not one of all the many dear friends he has seen pass 
away from earth ; not one of all the children he had 
watched over like a mother, in sickness and in health. 
by night and by day, had ever seen him in tears, or 
upon his knees : or never but once — according to his 
own acknowledgment — when, overwhelmed by a sudden 
burst of thankfulness, he knelt by the bedside of that 
young mother, and took her first child into his bosom. 

If the Scriptures were ever opened, it was only as a 
magnificent poem ; or as the secret hiding place of 
darkness, mystery and power ; full of the wonders of a 
buried Past, the glories and the pomps, the temples and 
the idols, the thrones and sceptres of many a long- 
forgotten Empire : and Patriarchs and Priests, and 
Warriors and Prophets were passed in review before him, 
along with all the Host of Heaven ; the Pharaohs and 
the Ptolemies, and the Spectres of Egypt and Assyria, 
of Babylon the great, and of Xineveh, as a continual 
procession of giant shadows — the phantasmagoria of 
another world — with feet among the deepest foundations 
of Earth, and with forehead among the Stars. 

"Would you inquire further, you find, that although he 
may not worship a golden image, like that of Xebuchad-| 
nezzar, nor a golden calf, nor the Queen of Heaven, yet 
hath he his idols among the constellations and tin 
glories of Earth ; and that within the very tempL 
fashioned by the Everlasting Father for his own worshi 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 105 

— the heart of Man — lie offereth continual sacrifice to 
them night and day, unseemly as they are. 

You may learn, moreover, that he holds himself aloof 
and afar from the great unreasoning multitude ; that he 
has no fellowship with, nor sympathy for, any of the 
great leading associations for the spread of the Gospel r 
that he never opens a religious Look or paper, but in the 
spirit of controversy or criticism ; that he glories in his 
own strength, and riots in what he calls a searching 
analysis — upon every subject hut one, and that the only 
Subject worthy of perpetual investigation ; that he, who 
is exceedingly slow of belief, and takes nothing for 
granted upon other (questions, takes every-thing for 
granted upon this, and believes — while pretending to 

disbelieve not only without evidence, but against 

evidence. 

You find also that, happen what may, he is never 
down-hearted, nor wavering, nor self-distrustful ; nor 
ever seriously troubled, though admonished again and 
again, and visited with warnings and mercies by turns, 
year after year, and allowed to escape, year after year, 
the retributions of Earth, and the visible judgments of 
Heaven, while others are falling by generations about 
his path, up to the eleventh hour of a long, happy and 
laborious life. 

But all at once, and without any apparent cause, the 
whole outward character of this haughty, imperious, and 
self-sufficient man is changed. They that know him best, 
acknowledge that he is no longer the same. All eyes 
are upon him, and the voices of them that have longest 
known him, die awa} r in a whisper at his approach, and 
9* 



106 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

their countenances are troubled ; but lie heeds them 
not. 

His family, friends, neighbors and associates in the 
business and pleasures of life, grow anxious and watch- 
ful, and shy, wondering what he will do next ; but as 
they have little or no sympathy for him, and no fellow- 
ship with him, to all their remonstrances, whether of 
look or speech, he answers nothing. 

And now he begins to 'walk softly' — he whose very 
tread, but a little time before, sounded like a threat. 
That imperious, upright, almost martial bearing, for 
which he had always been remarkable, has become a 
stoop. His fiery, impatient, overbearing temper grows 
gentle and serious, thoughtful and yielding. The strong- 
est of all his passions appears to be utterly quenched 
— to have gone out of itself. The lofty look, the loud 
voice, and the flashing eye, have disappeared. Xo longer 
a man of the world — living wholly for himself, and look- 
ing only to himself, and to the approbation of what he 
calls a conscience, though unenlightened, untroubled 
and neglected, or smothered, or stupified ; no longer am- 
bitious, overbearing, fearless, passionate and profane, he 
grows timid, patient, self-distrustful ; and the pomp and 
vanities of Earth have no visible power over him. No 
unseemly word escapes him, under the greatest provoca- 
tion, though taken wholly by surprise. Watch him ever 
so narrowly, and you find him, though always kind, 
courteous and considerate, charitable and hopeful for 
others, yet standing afar off, and apart from all those 
with whom he may have hitherto associated : the men 
of the World, the ambitious, the renowned, the sifted 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 107 

and the eloquent : and no longer ' first and foremost' in 
every great worldly undertaking, however vast and mag- 
nificent, or fuirof promise. 

No longer ' mindful of the things that perish', nor 
even of his character as a man of business — if engaged 
in business — that character on which he most prided 
himself, perhaps, but the other day, he grows more and 
more negligent and forgetful, every week. His engage- 
ments are unheeded ; his very letters lie unanswered, or 
peradventure, unopened, for days together ; continual 
and very strange mistakes are found in all that he does ; 
the very dates of his entries are wrong, and familiar 
names are forgotten. 

Wholly prc-occupied, and possessed, by one great, 
growing and overmastering persuasion, the man of busi- 
ness, like the man of the world, vanishes like a shadow. 
Forgetting the injunction to be ' not slothful in business', 
he contents himself with being only ' fervent in prayer'. 
Should he be disturbed in the loneliness, to which he 
has withdrawn, forever, as he hopes and believes, by the 
shadow of a disappointed creditor, instead of being 
overwhelmed with mortification, or greatly distressed 
for himself, he is only sorry to be the cause of such 
unseemly earnestness in a fellow-creature, on his way 
through the valley of the shadow of death, where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest'. 
Instead of energetic and timely preparation, as hitherto, 
he gives himself no uneasines whatever ; and if sharply 
questioned, he contents himself with signifying that he 
has done with business forever : that he has no desire 
to gather up riches, having enough and to spare of this 



108 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

world's goods ; that if his debts are provided for, prin- 
cipal and interest, as he believes they are, to the utter- 
most farthing, and his wife and children left in comfort- 
able, though very moderate circumstances, he shall be 
satisfied ; and that, meanwhile, if his few creditors are 
uneasy, or unwilling to wait for a few months, or years, 
he cannot say which, they are at liberty to help them-' 
selves — and then, perhaps, while the stranger stands 
before him bewildered and astonished at the composure 
he sees, or wondering what will be the end of such a 
piteous hallucination, he turns away, as if he heard the 
wind rising afar off, or a ground swell just ready to 
break over the last barrier, and lets every-thing go by 
the board. Like one cast ashore, after a long and weari- 
some struggle with the surges of the Great Deep, all he 
asks for now, is to left alone with God, that he may die 
in peace. 

And now, his health begins to fail ; and his familiar 
friends acknowledge, in a low whisper, when he goes by 
them in the great thoroughfare of life, that he is wasting 
away. Once very particular in matters of dress and 
personal appearance, he grows absent-minded, careless 
and slovenly : He listens to the suggestions of a wife. 01 
child, as if they were strangers ; lying hour after hou: 
upon the sofa, without opening his mouth, and utterl; 
heedless of all that may be going on about him. Tale 
ness, trembling, and a pitiable indecision of look, manne: 
and speech, follow, as if he does not clearly undcrstan 
what is expected of him. He cannot sleep — he who ha 
never lost a night, by watching, in all his life, imles 
by the sick-bed of another ; he, who could throw hi: 






A CHANGE OF HEART. 109 

self upon a bench, in the midst of children at play, 
or of strangers talking earnestly together, and sleep 
at will. 

Determined not to give up, he darkens all the windows 
at night — buries himself in the bed-clothes — turns his 
face to the wall, and tries, hour after hour, to lie motion- 
less, and to breathe naturally, lest he may disturb a 
beloved wife : and, at last, if worn out with watching, 
he should lose himself but for a few moments, he wakes 
all of a sudden, covered with a cold perspiration, or 
troubled by noises he never heard before, though always 
about him after dark ; or rises at dead of night, and 
steals away to a distant chamber, and there — overcome, 
perhaps, with a vague terror — falls upon his knees, and 
with ' groanings that cannot be uttered', prays to the 
Father of all Mercies, that he may not be allowed to go 
distracted. Like Lear, he begins to feel the hurrying 
darkness of another world, bearing him away, faster and 
faster, toward the great unfathomable gulph, where the 
mightiest have been shipwrecked, and the very Seraphim 
quenched forever, and breaks forth in that deplorable 
and bitter cry of the dethroned monarch — 

• let me not be mad ! not mad, sweet Heaven ! 
Keep me in temper. I would not be mad/ 

God hears him — and he sleeps. He rises greatly refreshed 
and strengthened ; although uneasy and wakeful, and 

overed with dampness like that of the death-bed. 
He now begins to labor with ' fear and trembling'; 

o beseech the Almighty and Everlasting Father to have 



HO A CHANGE GF HEART. 

mercy upon him, aud comfort and help him, for the sake 
of his Beloved Son. 

His eyes being opened, he now begins, not only to see, 
but to feel, the darkness round about him ; aud turning 
away from Earth, and the allurements of Earth, is 
wholly occupied with one great question ; and upon that, 
although he can think of nothing else, being disqualified 
by ever-anxiety, he cannot make up his mind. 

No longer satisfied with himself, nor with the character 
universally conceded to him by others, he begins to see 
and feel, and soon after to acknowledge, with tears, 
perhaps, and to comparative strangers, that he has indeed 
lived to little purpose ; that so far from being what he 
appeared, he has been wholly misunderstood, even by 
those who believed they knew him best ; that as for 
himself, he has been all his life long under a frightful 
delusion: and that, just where he had been most 
frequently held up, for an example to others, even there 
has he been must undeserving, or untrustworthy. That 
all his endowments, gifts and blessings, have been abused, 
or perverted, or neglected; that he has never been faithful 
in his high-stewardship, as a husband, or as a father, a 
a friend, or as a neighbor : nor ever truly thankful 
notwithstanding his professions, to the Giver of ever; 
good gift : and that, in the discharge of duties growin 
out of his relationship to others, he has hitherto tried i< 
satisfy himself only, and fallen far short of what h 
now acknowledges to have been but -a reasonable servic 
to God, to his fellow-man. and especially to those roun 
about him, and subjected in any way. no matter how, ti 
his authority, guardianship or influence ; here betrayini 



A CHANGE OF HEAET. HI 

or neglecting, and there abandoning altogether his high 
charge ; always falling short, and chiefly where he had 
most prided himself upon his faithfulness and steadfast- 
ness. 

And now ■ Behold he prayeth /' — and prayeth openly. 
Jehovah hath passed "before him, not with the strong 
wind that rends the mountains, and "breaks the rocks, 
not in tempest and in fire, not in thunder or in earth- 
quake, hut with the gentle whispering, the ' still small 
Toice' of a compassionate Father. 

And now the Bible opens of itself at his approach — 
burning with inward light — and he is filled with a new 
sense and a new hope. The fear of God is within him, 
and round about him, like a holier atmosphere ! not a 
slavish fear — not so much a dread of his wrath — as an 
overwhelming weight of self-reproach for past unthank- 
fulness — and a deep yearning for that perfect love which 
caste th out fear'. 

Sermons and tracts are now found lying about his 
hamber ; and they arc read no longer in the spirit of 
gladiatorial controversy ; and as for criticism, he would 
as soon think of criticising the sky itself, or a thunder- 
storm among the mountains, or a rising anthem of the 
sea. 

Baxter and Bunyan, and other like Teachers, undergo 
> transfiguration. They are understood for the first time, 
s the ' Pilgrim's Progress' changes from an allegory 
o a revelation, and the ' Saint's Best' begins to fashion 
for itself a sort of rhythm — a deep, solemn, inward music, 
nd to fill his heart with a continual chant or hymning 
ery sweet and clear to him, though inaudible to others, 



112 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

and somewhat mournful ; but he breathes freely, and 
sleeps quietly, and is comforted. 

And now that look of downcast weariness and self- 
distrust vanishes. Another spirit possesses him. He 
goes about the business of life, not slothfully, but with 
a new strength, and a higher purpose. Undismayed, 
undisheartened, upborne as with wings ; and cheerful 
with a quiet and serious cheerfulness, he shrinks from 
no duty, however irksome or unpalatable. Xew truths 
are emblazoned about his path. To deal justly, to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly — since every-where, he that 
feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted — to 
love our neighbor as ourself — and to do as we would be 
done by — according to the law and the Gospel ; this he 
believes to be not only the teaching, but the sum and 
substance of all Eevelation. 

The Bible is now another Sky : the Sky itself but 
another Bible. Other changes follow fast. Beligious 
help is wanted : the sympathy and companionship of 
religious people are sought for. Questionable habits are 
abandoned ; enemies are forgiven ; acknowledgments are 
made, atonements offered, and forgiveness entreated of 
the unrelenting. Secret and social prayer follow, and 
family worship, with visits to the anxious and the 
troubled, to the sick and the dying, the bereaved and 
the mourning. 

On the Lord's day, he is found morning, noon and 
night within the gates of the sanctuary, and between 
Sabbath, at all the conferences, prayer-meetings and 
lectures ; or engaged in promoting the cause of Sabbath- 
schools and Bible-classes, of mi^sionnrv and tract n-..- 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 113 

ciations, and of religious training, both at home and 
abroad ; by public addresses, or by conversation, or by 
writing for the newspapers, or by contributing of his 
substance. 

In a word — the man appears to have undergone a 
thorough and most astonishing change. All see it, and 
believe, and acknowledge it; and nobody thinks of 
denying it. 

And what has changed him ? AVas it bereavement, 
or sickness, or peril ? or the near approach of death ? 
or the loss of property, or station, or friends? or 
influence ? or character ? 

If it were these, or any of these — or disappointed 
ambition, or sorrow, as God works by instrumentalities, it 
would never show the change to be less real, though it 
might be less wonderful, or less unexpected, and perhaps 
more liable to misapprehension. 

In the course of a long and eventful, or adventurous 
life, he must have been called upon to bear sorrow and 
calamity, bereavement and trial ; he must have alienated 
friends, lost property, and with it, of course, character, 
influence and station ; but who ever saw him before, 
with a troubled countenance ? or with glistening lashes ? 
"Who ever saw him down-hearted, or trembling, or weak, 
or in tears, till now ? And who ever said of him before, 
in all his life — ' Behold he prayetli"? 

Under such circumstances, whither shall we go for 
explanation ? 

Here is what, after months of experience and observa- 
tion, all agree to call a change of the outward man, at 
least, if nothing more ; and Believers, a change of heart. 
10 



114 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

"When the party himself is questioned, he declares 
only that he has not recovered from his astonishment — 
all he pretends to know, is, that whereas he was blind, 
now he sees : that he had been blind from his birth : 
and that the change was never wrought within him by 
terror ; but by a sense of unworthiness, and of unthank- 
fulness, alike astonishing and unaccountable ; for he 
acknowledges in the bitterness of self-reproach, that he 
would not willingly associate with any man who should 
be convicted of such unthankfulness toward any earthly 
Father — if that were possible — as he himself had been 
guilty of, all his life long, toward a Heavenly Father. 

But you, my dear friend, being without experience in 
such matters, are not so easily satisfied. It may be all 
a mistake, you say. It may be hallucination. 

Granted. 

And you require other proof — other evidence before 
you give up — evidence that never can be had : evidence 
that no human understanding would ever be capable of 
estimating or weighing : for what is it after all that 
you require ? — what is it, stripped of all subterfuge and 
pretence ? Nothing less than this — evidence — evidence 
that cannot he questioned — of another man's sincerity ! 
proof that a fellow creature is not laboring under I 
hallucination or mistake ! and proof too, that cannotl 
be questioned? for inasmuch as the very best evidence 
— that of the man himself — may be questioned, and will 
continue to be questioned by the Unbeliever : and as thcl 
very wasting of bodily strength, and the paleness, tin 
trembling, the tears, and the sleeplessness you see. may 
have proceeded from other causes, who but the Omnis- 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 115 

cient Grod himself, tlie Searcher of hearts, can be sure 
of the truth ? 

If we appeal to the past character of the party — to 
his acknowledged manliness and truthfulness ; if we 
argue that, having passed through both conditions — that 
of the Unbeliever, and that of the Believer — he cannot 
be mistaken ; having a knowledge that no Unbeliever 
can have, till he himself has become a Believer : that 
among a multitude waiting to be operated upon, for 
blindness from their birth, he only who has been cured, 
can testify from knowledge and experience ; the opinions 
of all the rest being worthless ; for what can they know 
of light — or even of darkness — who have never had their 
eyes opeued for a moment ; nor felt their desolation ? 
you answer with a compassionate smile, or a shake of 
the head : as if the question were not fairly stated, or 
honestly argued. 

But beware. Men asleep, often believe themselves 
awake : but who, that was awake, ever thought himself 
asleep ? 

Should he give up his life, and go down meekly and 
patiently into the grave, would that satisfy you ? Prob- 
ably not ; for the ' Xoble Army of Martyrs' are not 
believed — the ' great congregation of the risen dead' are 
not listened to. What Man was, in the day of our Saviour 
upon earth — having Moses and the Prophets for Teach- 
ers — that is he now ; so that, unhelped of the Holy 
Spirit, he would not believe, though one should rise from 
the dead. To him, it would be but a vision of the 
night ; and even though he looked upon the countenance, 
land knew it ; and though he heard the unforgotten voice 



116 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

of a brother, or the dry bones rattling underneath his 
feet, as the awful messenger swept "by, still he would not 
believe ! He would rather glory in the strength of mind, 
that enabled him to disbelieve, and mock at the whole, 
as a phantom of indigestion, or fever. At noon-day, if 
that dead brother should stand suddenly before him, 
though he might quake and tremble at the apparition, 
he would be ashamed to acknowledge, even to himself, 
that it was anything more than a most astonishing 
resemblance ; and if sorely pressed, would sooner believe 
that the brother himself, whom he had seen buried, was 
yet living. 

But we must go further. Questions like these are not 
to be slurred over. You profess to be much in earnest. 
You desire to know the truth ; and where you do not 
believe, you claim to be a reasoning and thoughtful 
Unbeliever. My errand, therefore, is with you. 

Let us now look at the other phase of your objection. 
There might be other causes, you say. Very true. 
But if, after the most diligent and faithful search, you 
cannot find other causes, are you at liberty to suppose 
them, nevertheless ? Would such a course of procedure 
be honest, or safe, in any other case ? Are you to with- 
hold your assent, until, you are furnished with evidence, 
which the very nature of the question will never admit 
of? Would this be just? "Would it be reasonable 
Why not be satisfied with that evidence which is heh 
to be conclusive, by the highest earthly tribunals, ii 
matters of life and death — in the business of Senate 
Chambers — in the welfare of Kingdoms — that which i 
called the best evidence which the nature of the caal 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 117 

admits of? evidence of such a character, that none 
better may be supposed to lie behind it ? Are you acting 
wisely, to require impossibilities, for the satisfaction of 
your doubts, upon a question of such overwhelming 
importance to yourself? Must the dead, who have 
testified by their death, and by their doings, come forth 
alive, to testify ? And if they did — think well of your 
answer — how know you that you would believe? 

If the character of the party mentioned has been what I 
have supposed, frank and fearless ; if well known, and long 
passed the age of mere adventure and experiment ; and 
not only, so far as others may judge, not only unambitious, 
but unpopular, with little or nothing to desire of his fel- 
low-men, beyond their sympathy and good will ; would 
it be fair, would it be just, would it be reasonable, 
to charge him with counterfeiting ? ' Do men gather 
grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles' ? Hath not the 
Saviour himself said, * By their fruits ye shall know 
them' ? And what more would you have ? "What more 
could you have f Under all other circumstances, you 
are satisfied with the very evidence, which here, though 
it may concern the everlasting welfare of yourself, and 
of all that belong to you, and of all that in any way are 
subjected to your influence, or example, you are dissatis- 
fied with. Is not this very strange, even to yourself ? 
And not being able to satisfy yourself, even by that 
evidence, which would satisf\ r you in any other case, and 
upon which you act in all the business of life, you propose 
— yet more strangely — to suspend your opinion. 

But this you cannot do. Xo mortal can suspend his 
opinion — though he may refuse to acknowledge it, even 
10* 



118 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

to himself, by refusing to give it shape — with such 
evidence before him. He may delay the decision ; but 
that very delay is, of itself, a decision : and what is 
more, a decision against the evidence, and against 
himself, and all his hopes hereafter ; and every time he 
is put upon inquiry, by the warnings or the whisperings, 
the judgments or the mercies of God, by refusing to say 
Yes — he does in effect say JS T o. There can be no neutrals 
here. He that is not on the Lord's side is against him : 
and yet more effectually against him, perhaps, than if 
he waged open war upon his followers ; for then, he 
would be dealt with, as an acknowledged adversary. 

But you cannot be sure. Very true. And as G-od 
only can read the secrets of the human heart, He only 
can be sure. How long, therefore, do you propose to 
suspend your opinion? Or rather, how long do you 
propose to withhold an acknowledgment of your decision? 
Till you have become a Searcher of hearts yourself ? or 
till Jehovah has delegated to you one of his leading 
attributes, and one which would be likely to draw after 
it all the others — Omniscience being but one aspect of 
Omnipotence. 

And now, you entrench yourself anew, by saying that, 
although the party himself may be honest enough, and 
to all appearance, outwardly changed, still there may 
be no inward change, and he, himself, though honest, 
may be mistaken. 

Granted. Such a terrible mistake may happen. Of 
this, we are assured by God himself. We nia}- be led to 
believe a lie. And what then ? Is there no such thing 
as truth ? no such thing as true spiritual regeneration ? 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 119 

Because one who has been couched for the cataract, may 
he led to mistake the feeble glimmer of a darkened 
chamber for the light of noon, will that show that others 
who were blind from their birth, and now go about all 
the business of life, without help, have not been suc- 
cessfully operated upon ? If there be any such thing as 
regeneration — spiritual regeneration — or any such thing 
as the restoration of sight — can it ever be proved, unless 
we have faith in Man — or faith in God ? 

Allow me to put a case for your consideration. I 
would have you judge for yourself: but if your under- 
standing is to be enlightened, or your heart strengthened, 
you must be careful to distinguish between possibilities, 
and probabilities. 

If we refuse to believe, so long as there may be a 
possibility of error, we must hear and see every thing 
for ourselves ; and even then, as we know that we cannot 
alwa} T s trust to the evidence of our senses, what can we 
believe, since there may always be a possibility of decep- 
tion, or mistake. 

How know we that there is any such city on earth, as 
Constantinople ? Have we ever been there ? and if we 
had lived there all our lives long, would that be proof, 
beyond the possibility of mistake ? Have not others 
been deceived, or misled — by misapprehension, or craft, 
or conspirac} 1 ' ? 

And yet we believe ; and we act and reason as if we 
knew, of our own knowledge, beyond the possibility of 
a doubt, that all we have heard from others about Con- 
stantinople, must be substantially true, and cannot be 
1 a cunningly devised fable'. 



120 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

And why ? Because, in weighing evidence, we look at 
'probabilities, instead of possibilities, in all that concerns 
our happiness here ; and act accordingly. 

Let me suppose that somewhere, a great way off, 
among a strange people, a physician should he called to 
a case entirely new. Nothing that he has ever met with, 
or heard of, in all his life, corresponds with what he now 
sees. Being watchful, inquisitive, patient and conscien- 
tious, with no opportunity for consultation, he records 
the symptoms, or diagnostics, from hour to hour, and 
from day to day, and having completed the history, lays 
it aside for future reference. 

And let me further suppose, that in different ages, 
and in all parts of the world, the very same thing had 
happened to others, who for like reasons had kept similar 
records, without any acquaintance with one another, and 
without intercommunication ; that after awhile, these 
records and histories are brought together and compared 
and that after a long and faithful examination, the 
symptoms are found to agree in every distinguishing 
peculiarity. Would you not infer, from such identity 
of symptoms, identity of disease, ailment or affection \ 
If you are a medical man, acquainted with the ground 
work, history and growth of medical science, yoi 
cannot do otherwise ; or 3-011 abandon all hope, anc 
acknowledge medicine to be but another name for tin 
worst of quackery. Are you a plain, straight -forwarc 
reasoner, unacquainted with any other science than tha 
which enables you to judge for yourself about the com 
men business of life ; and wholly uncommitted upon th 
question — you are obliged to decide in the affirmative 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 121 

or to acknowledge that your wisest calculations are but 
guess-work ; that water may run up hill without help ; 
that bonfires may be made of snow-balls ; and that 
nothing is to be learned by experience. 

Would it be safe — would it be reasonable — would it 
be in accordance with what we ever do in the manage- 
ment of our business, or the formation of our opinions 
— to suppose that all the sufferers had been afflicted with 
an imaginary ailment ? Or, that they had been carried 
away by sympathy — being strangers, and far apart — or 
by self-deception? 

All the cases, being by supposition what are called 
sporadic, and not epidemic ; unassociated and unfrequent, 
instead of being simultaneous and common ; scattered 
over the whole earth, and among every people, in every 
age, and under every possible variety of circumstances, 
instead of being confined to either sex, or to any particu- 
lar condition, race, or age ; and the subjects, or sufferers, 
being moreover, by the supposition, not only strangers, 
but wholly unacquainted with the fact, that others had 
ever been troubled in the same way — -what opportunity 
would there be, for the influence of imagination, or sym- 
pathy ? 

And although, upon further inquiry, it should after- 
wards turn out, that cases of a similar character had 
always been happening, and had always been known to 
the better informed : that instead of being ' few and far 
between', like ' angel visits', they have sometimes over- 
swept whole neighborhoods, and visited by turns almost 
every nation of the earth ; still, if these facts are not 
known to the sufferers, nor to their physicians, it would 



I 



122 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

not lessen the value of their testimony, nor that of the 
records thus brought together. At most, it would only 
show their ignorance, while it corroborated their truth- 
fulness. 

After the Cholera asphyxia, or Asiatic Cholera, had 
become an epidemic, there was room for all the mischief 
to be apprehended from terror, sympathy or imagination ; 
but so long as the cases were few and far off ; so long 
as they were unreported, unheard of, or disbelieved, it 
was not so. Each case must have been a startling 
anomaly ; to be judged of by itself alone. As well 
might one argue that the yellow-fever was a sheer hal- 
lucination, or the plague, a sympathetic influence, or 
the bilious cholera, described by Sydenham, in 107o, so 
frightful in its ravages, and so nearly resembling that . 
great Eastern pestilence, which, one hundred and fifty 
years later, overswept the whole earth, empire after 
empire, was dependent upon self-deception, terror, sym- 
pathy or collusion. 

And even if it were otherwise — if all these terrible 
afflictions were propagated by sympathy, imagination, or 
terror, how would that help the matter? Would they 
be any the less fatal ; or less to be dreaded by the sons 
of men, or a whit more manageable '? And would not the | 
question occur, at every step — How did they originate ? 

Do yellow-fever patients deceive themselves, or con- 
spire to deceive others ? Honest they may be — but how 
do they know they have got the fever ? If you will not 
take their word for it, nor the word of others familiar 
with the symptoms, how are you ever to be satisfied, 
until you have had it yourself '? 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 123 

Unless you have had some experience — are capable of 
reasoning ; and know whither to go for information, and 
■how to weigh the evidence — what business have you 
with the question ? and how can you ever hope to be 
satisfied ? 

Perhaps, the distinguishing characteristic of a great 
mind is, the power of detecting resemblances, where 
others see only differences, or differences, where others 
see only resemblances. The naturalist, who sees that in 
a shell, or a flower, which connects it with one family, 
while it distinguishes it from every other : and the 
comparative anatomist, who cannot be misled, nor de- 
ceived, by the fragment of a bone or a tooth, must have 
a delicate appreciation of what others overlook among 
the rubbish of accidental, or circumstantial testimony ; 
and in this way only, are they both enabled to show 
their innate aptitude. The botanist detects at a glance 
that which links the smallest rose with the apple-blossom, 
or the blackberry ; not because both are flowers, for 
that were the judgment of the multitude ; but because 
both belong to the same household of flowers ; and 
that which never fails to distinguish them from every 
other household, however much alike they may be to 
the common eye. 

And so with the mineralogist, and the physician ; 
with the moralist and with the religous inquirer. They 
must be able to distinguish, and to generalize, to separate 
and to bring together ; to cast aside, or to overlook, 
whatever may be found either out of place, or unessential 
to the immediate purpose of their investigation ; just as 
jthe well-educated, healthy eye, instead of seeing too 



124 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

much at once, and all things, whether afar off or near, 
large or small, at the same distance, like the newly 
couched for a cataract, has learned not to see, as well as 
to see, whenever its whole attention is needed to a parti- 
cular point — whether turned to the "blue vault above, 
'fretted with golden fires' — the multiplying constellations 
of a boundless and fathomless empyrean — or concentrat- 
ed upon the purple shadows, and fiery dust, of a butterfly's 
wing, the steely corselet of a warrior-beetle, or the golden 
plumage of a moth. 

If therefore, in looking for evidence of a change of 
heart, from long before the day of Pentecost, up to the 
present hour, you can be satisfied, as a reasonable and 
thoughtful man, having a deep interest in the question, 
with such evidence, as you are not only governed by, 
but satisfied with, in all the business of life, and in all 
that you are led to do, or say ; carefully distinguishing 
between accessaries and essentials, accidents and charac- 
teristics, you need not flinch from the inquiry, nor delay 
it ; for upon the supposition that you are honest — and 
faithful to yourself — that you are patient, earnest and 
teachable ; that you have some belief in the records of 
the Past and Present, and some faith in Man — God has 
nothing to fear — nor have you — from the severest logic. 
and the sharpest questioning, of the mightiest among 
Unbelievers. 

But do this — and do it, with humility and reverence 
— with Godly fear — and love — and. as the Lord livetli. 
you shall be answered as the Lawgivers, and Prophets, 
and Patriarchs of old were answered, out of the whirl- 
wind or the sea. with the still small voice, and patiem 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 125 

whispering of Almighty love, or with the tempestuous 
brightness, and heavy thunderings of Almighty power. 

Be hut steadfast, humble and hopeful, and you will 
he sure to find good and sufficient reasons for believing, 
that what is called a new birth — regeneration — or a 
change of heart, is very common — among the commonest 
of the continued miracles of our Great Father : that it 
may be demonstrated, as clearly as most of our bodily 
affections ; and that it may be distinguished, as certainly, 
from all counterfeits and pretences : for however much 
the body may differ from the Soul — or physiology from 
psychology — they have this in common with the very 
atmosphere we breathe, and with the constellations above, 
that they are capable of being registered and remem- 
bered, compared and weighed ; so that, their simplest 
manifestations, like some of their largest phenomena, 
are within the grasp of our understandings. 

Now, I do aver that I have seen such a case — I might 
say two or three such cases ; for they were substantially 
alike, in all their distinguishing characteristics ; and 
that so far as the parties themselves knew any thing of 
what was to foretell, or accompany, or follow, a change 
of heart. I do know in one case, and I do believe in the 
other cases, upon evidence which no sound, patient 
reasoner would ever think of questioning, that what 
did happen from day to day, was not only unexpected, 
but contrary to what they were looking for, and hoping 
for. 

A one and the same time, there were misgivings 
upon the very same points, where no communication had 
been held between the parties, either directly or indi- 
11 



126 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

rectly upon these points ; and the discovery was made, 
not by design, but providentially ; while they were 
reading together a little book,* as the author himself 
wishes it to be read, chapter by chapter, with intervals 
for meditation, reference to scripture, and secret prayer ; 
and while they were consulting together upon the points 
referred to — certain doubts which sprung up in their 
hearts, or minds, at the same instant. The eyes of one 
fell upon a passage in the chapter he was about to read for 
the first time, which enabled both to see, and at the same 
instant, that these very misgivings, however unaccount- 
able, were among the essential, the peculiar, and the 
distinguishing characteristics of their case ; that others 
— a great multitude of men, women, and children — of 
all ages and conditions, and in all countries, had been 
troubled in the same way, and tormented by the very 
same dark shadows. Their secret, unacknowledged 
fears, they saw, to their unspeakable amazement, and 
both at once, not only put into language, but printed, 
and spread out before their eyes ; and the prayers which 
they had never breathed aloud to the ears of mortal man. 
and were almost afraid to acknowledge to themselves 
they beheld set before them, in the language of another. 
Yet more. Although both were without religousl 
experience, and knew of a ' trembling hope', only byl 
hearsay, or common report, both had been led to believt 
that joy — joy in some shape — -joy unspeakable — an 
nothing but joy — was to be looked for. as the sign o J . 
acceptance and the seal of truth : and that, althoug] 
such new hope might not always break forth in son 

* James's Anxious Inquirer. 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 127 

and shoutings, nor in tumultuous acknowledgments, or 
audible thanksgiving, still, if it was a safe, justifiable, 
well-grounded hope, there would be joy, deep-felt, ear- 
nest and solemn joy, a serene, comforting, tranquillizing 
assurance, never to be mistaken. 

They were strengthened in this belief, too, by the 
language they heard from others, deeply interested, and 
of large experience, who sought to encourage them by 
foretelling, that if they were hopeful, and patient, and 
submissive, they would be sure to ' come out bright'. 

Notwithstanding this belief, and these well-meant 
assurances, they waited and hoped, week after week, 
without feeling the presence of the Comforter, as a joy 
and brightness, but rather as an overshadowing ; a deep, 
serious, and ever-growing thought-fulness and self-re- 
proach. Not unhappy were they ; but their happiness 
had nothing in it of the joy that had been so long waited 
for, and so often foretold. They were disappointed ; 
and both at the same time, and in the same way, as 
thousands have been before, and thousands will be 
hereafter, so long as but one aspect of God's manifesta- 
tions to the children of men, shall continue to be 
mistaken for what it never was, and never will be, to 
the infinitely varied wants of our nature and character ; 
the only sign of acceptance, and the only seal of truth. 

But in the trouble — not to say the anguish, and the 

I darkness, that followed their disappointment, it happened, 

| to their unspeakable relief, that on referring the ques- 

I tion to their pastor, he was enabled to assure them that 

he had known a multitude of cases — four or five hundred 

perhaps, where the solemnity had continued throughout, 



128 A CHAXGE OF HEART. 

and sometimes, even to melancholy or sadness, month 
after month ; and that some had lived years, and others 
gone down to the grave, with a continually growing 
seriousness, devout believers, and faithful christians, 
judging by all that could be known of them here ; but 
owing, perhaps, to constitutional peculiarities, never 
cheerful. The joy of such would be a serious joy — too 
deepl} 7 felt, perhaps, to be acknowledged within the hear- 
ing of mortal man. 

Without stopping to show the danger of looking for 
signs, in one quarter of the sky only : or the mischief 
that may be done, by leading the troubled spirit to look 
for only one kind of manifestation : or the mistake that 
is made by Christians, who keep the secret of their 
happiness to themselves — and are believed to be unhappy, 
not because they ' die and make no sign' ; but because 
they live and make no sign ; and for refusing to be cheer- 
ful and gracious, or sympathetic and courteous, are 
believed to be wretched : or at any rate, no true Christ- 
ians — the highest possible testimony, by the way. that 
men of the world can offer to the spirit of Christianity, 
which, rightly understood, is but another name for ever- 
lasting cheerfulness : without stopping to argue these, 
or any other questions that would naturally arise here, 
of a subordinate nature, let us now come directly to the 
point. 

Bear with me, I beseech you. Follow mo patiently 
and step by step, while the summing up of all that ha: 
been urged, is faithfully presented for your consideration 
and then decide for yourself. I shall have nothing nior< 
to say. 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 129 

Xow — unless these two persons, husband and wife, 
were self-deceived, or laboring each to deceive the other, 
upon the same subject, at the same time, and in the 
same way, they were under a new and strange influence, 
unlike any they had ever felt before : and if they were 
self-deceived, or carried away b} T sympathy, when there 
was no stir, no solemnity, nothing unusual at work among 
their friends or associates, and no symptoms of a revival 
in the church or congregation, or neighborhood, or city 
where they lived : or if they were influenced by terror, 
either vague or definite, of impending, or distant calamit}-, 
or by imagination — how would it ever be possible to show 
that a change of heart — or the cholera, the yellow- 
fever, or the plague, though isolated and sporadic, was 
not the result of sympathy, imagination, or terror? 

And supposing the change to be, indeed and in truth, a 
spiritual regeneration — the work of supernatural power 
— how otherwise could it be proved, than by the testi- 
mony of the parties themselves, corroborated by their 
behaviour ? Is not the evidence furnished — I appeal to 
you, my friend, as a logician, as a patient, honest rea- 
soner — is it not, after all, the best evidence the nature 
of the case admits of? And if so, why insist upon 
more ? Would you have the witnesses work wonders, 
to satisfy you ? And if they did — how know you that 
you would not look upon them as ' lying wonders'? at 
the best, as but a more adroit jugglery; just as the 
Egyptians did, upon the greater power of Aaron, when 
their soothsayers and magicians strove with him, face to 
face ? Their rods became serpents too — and the only 
[difference, in the judgment of Pharaoh and his host, was, 
11* 



130 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

that Aaron appeared to be the greater magician, and 
altogether too much for his brethren. Else had they 
resisted no longer. 

But, although you have heard of the Pharaohs and 
the Ptolemies ; of the Caesars and the Caliphs ; of 
Assyria, and of Egypt, and Babylon — you do not believe 
in them, perhaps ? Not having seen them with your 
own eyes — not having handled and weighed all the 
evidence that relates to them — history being so unsafe, 
and all human testimony so liable to error — you feel 
bound to withhold your belief — -for the present — or until 
you are able to satisfy yourself ? 

If so, how dare you believe anything ? The Past, 
and the Future, and all the Present, upon which you 
cannot lay your hands — and keep them there — must be 
a blank to you ; a dreary and hopeless blank. 

How know you, for example, that there is any such 
city on earth as Timbuctoo '? — or Canton ? — or St. Pe- 
tersburg ? — or Constantinople, or London, or Paris, or 
Washington ? Have you ever been there ? 

And if you had been there — what then ? What could 
you know, but from the testimony of others ? after you 
had explored them thoroughly — after you had visited 
all their archives — handled their deepest foundations — 
and compared and weighed the accumulated testimony 
of ages : what could you really know, of yourself, but 
for your faith in Man ? but for your belief in that 
very evidence which you turn away from, or scoff at. 
when applied to a question that you are bound to settle 
for yourself, before it is too late : because, for aught 
you know, it may involve your everlasting welfare. You 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 131 

would not even be sure that you had found them — that 
you knew their names — that you had not mistaken one 
for the other — Jeddo, or the city of Washington itself 
perhaps, for Timbuctoo ? 

One word more. In all the business of life, which of 
the two — the man of experience, or the man without 
experience — do you put your trust in? If you were 
seeking to understand how disappointment and sorrow, 
or failing health, or thwarted ambition, or the loss of 
property, or friends, or character, would operate on the 
mind or heart of man — other qualifications being alike 

to which would you go ? To the ever-prosperous 
man ? to the untried and spared, wholly unacquainted 
with calamnity ? — or to the ' Man of sorrow and ac- 
quainted with grief?' to him who had been tried long 
and patiently in the furnace of affliction ? to the 
bereaved and the mourning ? the shipwrecked and the 
impoverished ? to him, who having tasted of more 
than the bitterness of death in the loss of character, or 
friends, or the deep working of disappointed ambition, 
would be willing to lay his heart naked before you, and 
leave you to judge for yourself? 

Is it certainty or conjecture, theory or practice, that 
you would require ? 

In other words — the testimony of which man would 
you prefer, upon the question at issue : that of one who 
had not — or that of one who professed to believe that 
he had — undergone what is called a change of heart ? 

Other circumstances being equal, he who has had 
experience of both conditions, would be likely to furnish 
the best evidence — would he not ? — for how could he, 



132 A CHAXGE OF HEART. 

who had the experience of but one of these two conditions, 
help you ? 

In other words — until you yourself were converted, 
how could you satisfy yourself? Would you not be 
obliged to depend altogether, and always, upon the testi- 
mony of others ? 

You have only to apply the same rules of investigation 
to spiritual things, which you make use of upon all 
other questions, and in all the business of life, whatever 
may be its nature, even to that which may be a matter 
of life or death here, if not hereafter. 

You are to believe upon proper evidence well 

weighed, carefully compared, and honestly judged of — 
upon evidence, which would satisfy you in matters of 
deep seriousness, where property, health, life, or character 
were in issue. 

Where you have no personal experience yourself, there 
you must believe upon the experience of others ; or not 
believe at all. 

"What would you think of a man. who. professing a 
desire to understand the truth about a landscape 
— the tinting of sky and earth, or the grouping of 
trees, and the changeable brightness of many waters, 
should consult a stranger who had never seen it. or an- 
other blind from his birth '? Or of him. who being very 
anxious to learn French, or German, should confine his 
inquiries to people who had never studied either 
language, never heard either spoken, and had no belief 
in either ? 

Yet this, my friend, is just what you do, when you 
allow yourself to weigh the opinions of inexperience* 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 133 

men, however trustworthy, against the experience of 
others, acknowledged to he as trustworthy. You prefer 
the guess-work and hearsay of men like yourself, and 
therefore blind from their birth, so far as this great ques- 
tion is in issue, to the solemn declaration of eye-witnesses, 
alike unimpeached, and unimpeachable. 

But again I say, Beware ! Men asleep often believe 
themselves awake ; but no waking man ever believed 
himself asleep. 

But you, wanting information of the utmost import- 
ance, go to the man asleep ; and then, to make all sure, 
you insist upon his not being disturbed, lest, if he 
should wake up, he might disqualify himself, by testi- 
fying from experience. 

You must acknowledge that a man who believes him- 
self to be changed, whether deceived or not, has an 
experience of some sort, which he never had before ; and 
I which no other man, who has never believed himself 
changed, ever had. 

If you honestly desire to be enlightened, to which of 
Ithese two would you apply ? 

The inexperienced, like little children, have their 
opinions ; the more experienced, theirs. But what do 
little children ever know of the feelings of men and 
Iwomen, fully matured, and rejoicing in their strength ? 

' When I was a child', says the great Apostle to the 
lentilcs, ' I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I 
thought as a child, but when I became a man, I put away 
l-hildish things'. 

Yet men and women, having once been children, and 

kavillf OYnovionr-o of Tintli r-rmrlitirms nrp well n.Ofmainted 



134 A CHANGE OF HEART. 

with the feelings and opinions of children, just as the 
higher intelligences of the upper world may "be acquaint- 
ed with our feelings, our hopes, our opinions, and our 
wishes, though we know little or nothing of theirs. 

"Would it be wise of you, my dear friend, to inquire 
of children, about the workings of unhallowed ambition, 
the lust of power, the appetites, the wants, or the lead- 
ing characteristics, of a Xapoleon or a Caesar, a Wash- 
ington or a Webster '? 

And why not — unless you hold them to be disqualified 
by their inexperience '? 

But, as I have said before — all beginners are chil 
dren : and therefore, all who have not begun, are lea 
than children, whatever may be their age, talents or 
character ; and wholly incompetent, And therefore, in- 
stead of being questioned by those, who are honestly 
desirous of knowing the truth, are not to be listened to, 
without danger. 

Are the blind to lecture, not upon the great governing 
laws of light, with Sanderson, who demonstrated, among 
other things, that it was better to be born blind, since 
the other faculties were sharpened thereby, and the 
6ense of touch was not confined to a single organ, or a 
single nerve, but diffused over the whole body, an 
capable of doing what the eye could not do, as he proved 
by measuring with his fingers, instantaneously, th 
length of a scratch made by the graver upon a polish© 
steel plate, which, to the unassisted eye. appeared fault 
less — Are they to lecture, not upon these great laws, o 
which even the blindest may obtain a knowledge, by th 
help of others who are not blind : but upon the mutabi 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 135 

lity of colors, upon the light and shadow drifting over a 
wide reach of summer landscape, with surging grass and 
tumbling water-falls, or upon the ever-changing wonders 
of a northern sky ? 

And if they lecture, are you to listen patiently ? and 
put your trust in their speculations ? or hazard aught 
upon the soundness of their opinions ? 

Yet this very thing you do in spiritual matters. You 
sit under the teachings of people who do not even pretend 
to see — hazarding your whole happiness, here and here- 
after, it may he, upon the soundness of their conjectures. 
Would you he satisfied with such information as you 
might be likely to obtain, by inquiring of your next 
door neighbors, about the nature and employment of 
Angels and Archangels, of Cherubim and Seraphim ? — 
What know they, more than you, of these high matters ? 
Both are without experience. You cannot help one an- 
other, till you have undergone a transfiguration. 

And yet, professing honestly to desire a better 
I acquaintance with spiritual things, you content yourself 
I with questioning others, as inexperienced as yourself. 
I You inquire about a change of heart — and of whom ? 
I Not of the changed, but of the unchanged ? 

And you ask to be believed, when you aver that you 

I are desirous of knowing the truth ! Beware, my friend. 

iMan may deceive himself. He may deceive others. But 

|God he cannot deceive : and God ' will not be mocked' 

of this we may be very sure, without the help of the 

Bible. 

But you may be of those, and their name is legion, 



136 A CHAXGE OF HEART. 

Man ' believeth in his heart nnto Salvation', therefore. 
as he may believe in his heart, whether upon much or 
little evidence, or no evidence at all, and after much, or 
no inquiry, so it is : relying upon the words of Paul, 
where he says. ' To him who esteemeth anything unclean, 
to him, it is unclean': although he adds, ' I know and 
am persuaded that there is nothing unclean of itself. * 
* * Xevertheless, he that doubteth is damned if he 
eat, because he eateth not of faith.' Eom. xiv : 14, 23 : 
or, peradventure, upon these words, ' For as he thinketh 
in his heart, so is he.' 

But aside from the pitiable misapprehension, or perver- 
sion of a clear, self-evident truth, you know that if you 
thrust your hand into that fire, it will burn you, what- 
ever you may believe, or not believe ; and that if you 
cast yourself down headlong from the pinnacle of the 
Temple, you will be dashed to pieces, whatever may be 
your opinion — private or published — of the errors in Sir 
Isaac Xewton's theory of gravitation. 

May it not be worth your while, to satisfy yourself 
by inquiries in the right quarter, before you try any- 
such hazardous experiment ? 

Depend upon it, my friend, there are such cities on 
earth as London, Paris, Constantinople and St. Peters- 
burg, whatever you may suppose to the contrary, after 
conversing with all your neighbors, who not having seen 
them, have therefore no faith in them. 

And now to the point. 

Are you certain there is no such thing as a change oJ 
heart ? Absolutely certain that there is no need o: 
such a change in yourself? Have you honestly inquired" 



. 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 



137 



Have you tried to satisfy yourself in the only safe way ? 
- — Iby questioning them that know ? 

And after all — what if you should he mistaken ? 
Would that make any difference in the result ? — Have 
you done your utmost ? — Are you sure ? 

There are those who are equally certain, and upon 
just as good authority, if they themselves are to he 
believed, that there is no G-od — no Saviour — no Hereafter 
— no Judgment — no Heaven — no Hell. 

But if they should happen to find themselves mistaken 
at last — what then ? 

Would their belief or disbelief change the fact — or 
the consequences ? 

My friend ! — my brother ! If you are thirty years of 
age, you have outlived nearly one thousand millions of 
mankind : if sixty, nearly two thousand millions. 

Have you never tried to understand why you have 
been spared — with so many millions of chances against 
you? 

In other words, have you never thought of asking 
yourself what you were created for — what you are 
preserved for — and what you are good for ? 

If not — You have no time to lose. 



12 



138 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

1. But professing Christians — brethren — claiming 
to be the People of God ; to belong to the Household of 
Faith ; to be not only better, but wiser than their 
neighbors, do not agree among themselves. They are 
always disputing together, and always about essentials, 
or non-essentials : If, as they pretend, it is always 
about essentials, what must be the real character of 
their faith ? And if, on the contrary, it is about 
non-essentials, what sort of Christians must they be '? 
In either case, why dispute among themselves ? And 
how can we, the people of the world, who do not claim 
to be wiser or better than our neighbors, and have no 
self-righteousness to boast of — how can we be expected 
to make up our minds, with so little time for search ? 
' "Who shall decide where doctors disagree ?' 

Very fair, and very much to the purpose. But can 
you name a subject about which men do not disagree — 
conscientious, able, patieut, sober-minded men ? Doefl 
this prevent you from having an opinion of your own. 
whenever you think it worth your while '? 

If you arc about sending a ship to sea — or going 
abroad — or getting married — or accepting a trust, do 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 139 

you suspend your opinion, till your neighbors and friends, 
who take a deep interest in your undertaking, and 
welfare, have all agreed together ? 

Does God himself require such agreement ? or do 
men ? True it is, that if we would prevail in prayer, 
we must agree together touching what we would ask — 
for the same reason that we must agree together, in 
presenting a petition to an earthly monarch. And 
though it is declared that if any one ask, he shall receive 
— and that we do not have, because we do not ask — yet, 
for the double-minded man, there is no encouragement, 
and for the unstable as water, no hope. 

"We are individualities. God's whole creation is made 
up of nothing else. However much alike we may be — 
we are always unlike enough, to be distinguished from 
all other human beings that ever breathed, and this, 
not in our bodies only, but in our minds, our affections, 
and our experience. As individualities, we were created 
-as individualities, we live — we suffer — we enjoy. As 
individualities, we die, and are to be judged, here and 
hereafter ; and each for himself, and not one for another. 

Would you have this law changed ? Would you like 

I to be tried by the opinions, or be answerable for the 

judgment of another, in the world to come ? Before 

you undertake to ransom a brother, be sure that a 

ransom has been found for yourself. 

How long will you wait ? Will the time ever come, 
I think you, when Christians will agree together in every- 
I thing ? And are you likely to live to see it ? 

As well hope to see mankind judged in the lump — as 

I to find them lnilrrinor in the Inrrm. Hfi.vin.o 1 different 



140 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

characters, they must have different opinions about 
every thing capable of dispute. 

Beware of letting such considerations prevail with 
you. Otherwise, you decide the great question — not for 
yourself — but against yourself, and forever : since to 
wait for all Christians to agree, would be to wait until 
whatever distinguished them, one from another, had 
been resolved into the unchangeable unity of God him- 
self. 

2. But the Bible itself, as a rule of faith and action, 
is understood by different inquirers, alike trustworthy, 
diligent and conscientious, in different senses. 

Answer : very true — in some things — though not in 
every-thing ; and almost always, perhaps, in what may 
prove to be non-essentials hereafter. 

And these differences of opinion are among those that 
are nearest — as bodies that are travelling in the same 
path, and the same plane, if they do not coalesce, are 
most likely to clash. 

3. But the People of God, as they call themselves, 
contradict their professed belief, by their daily walk 
and conversation : so that they who are not with them. 
are tempted to ask, ' "What do ye more than others ?' 

Granted — and what then ? Would that change your 
accountabilit}- ? Would it lessen yours, because it- 
aggravated theirs ? "Would it alter the facts — when 
Christ himself says, to every such questioner — ' What is 
that to thee ? Follow thou me\ 

Bear in mind, that the Bible was to be always the 
Bible — whatever might be the progress of the human 
mind, or the spiritual growth of Man. and however well 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 141 

adapted to the understandings of the feeblest. Of course, 
therefore, it must always contain something above, and 
often unintelligible to, the multitude — nay, beyond the 
understandings, not only of the great multitude, but of 
the wisest and greatest of any given age. 

But you go further. Professing Christians, you say, 
cannot believe what they pretend to believe — and they, 
by the supposition, are the only qualified witnesses — else 
they would neither eat, nor sleep : there would be no 
marrying, nor giving in marriage — for who would put in 
jeopardj' the everlasting welfare of a child, if he — or she 
-could help it ? There would be no more household 
comforts, no more family relationship ; and all the 
business of the world, so far as Believers are concerned, 
would stop forever ; and their whole time would be 
employed in prayers and tears, in lamentations or self- 
reproach, or ' in the groanings that cannot be uttered'. 

And this, you believe, or pretend to believe. But 
who makes the charge ? Professors, or non-professors ? 
the experienced, or the inexperienced '? Believers, or 
Unbelievers"? Does the Bible say so? Did the Patriarchs, 
or the Prophets ever so teach ? Did Jesus Christ, or 
I any of the Apostles, or any of the Martyrs, among the 
I early Christians ? 

True : We are to give up all that we have, in a 
I spiritual sense. We are to forsake father and mother, 
[wife and children, houses and lands — but always in a 
(spiritual sense. They are to be no longer idols — ' Thou 
Ishalt have no other Gods but me', says Jehovah. 

So too, we are to ' rejoice evermore'' , to ' be constant 



142 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

to the Lord, every-where, and at all times, in whatsoever 
we do ; and ' whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we 
do, we are to do all to the glory of God'. 1 Cor. x : 31 
— 1 Thess. v: 16, 17. But all these things, we can do 
only in a spiritual sense. Impossibilities are not required 
of us. 

And then too, let it never be forgotten, that we are 
solemnly charged to provide for our own. We are to 
watch over our children ; to train them up in the way 
they should go; and not 'provoke them to wrath.' I wish 
therefore, younger women to marry, to bear children, to 
manage families, is the language of Paul himself:* We 
are to rule our own household : we are to be masters 
and servants. Believers, though yoked with unbelievers, 
are not to give them up, nor put them away : husbands 
are to love their wives, and wives are to reverence 
their husbands — Woman being the glory of Man, or 
rather, as Wakefield renders it, ' the glorious image of 
man', as man is of God : We are to feed the hungry, to 
clothe the naked, and minister to the brethren that 
have need. 

Therefore, marriage, with all the incidents and rela- 
tionships of marriage, like seed-time and harvest, were 
to continue : therefore, inequalities of condition were to 
continue : and therefore. Christians are to be ' not 
slothful in business', though • fervent in spirit*, and 
4 serving the Lord' — for rightly to labor is to worship : 
they are to be active, diligent and faithful in the dis- 
charge of all their duties, both to God and man. 

* Wakefield's Translation. 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 143 

But however all this may be, you say, it is undeniable 
that the behavior of professing Christians, instead of 
corresponding with, absolutely and notoriously contra- 
dicts their alleged belief, day after day, and year after 
year : They show no such troublesome earnestness for 
the spiritual and everlasting welfare of others, even for 
that of their own flesh and blood — no such uplifting 
sense of the worth of souls — no such joy over the sinner 
that repenteth, as might be reasonably expected of them: 
and they are not so constantly and clearly distinguished 
from the men and women about them, who, like Thomas 
Jefferson himself, in our great manifesto to the Nations, 
profess nothing but a decent regard for the opinions of 
the world, even while appealing to Almighty God, as 
they have undertaken to be at all times, and every- 
where, by a solemn covenant, renewed month after 
month, and year after year, to the end of their pilgrimage ; 
and as they could not fail to be, if they truly and 
steadfastly believed what they profess to believe. 

A true Christian, you say, ought to be instantly 
known, every-where, and at all times, and under all 
circumstances, however trying : and a professor, who 
manages to go about among the multitude, without 
being suspected, is therefore no Christian. 

The charge is well grounded. It deserves to be well 
considered : for it involves not only a most alarming 
truth, but the highest possible compliment to christian 
character, in its beauty and holiness. 



144 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

of it, all their lives long, as they certainly do, in the 
judgment of Unbelievers, or the World? 

Xot only are the worshippers judged of "by their God 
— but every God is judged of by his worshippers. Where 
the gods are monkeys, what must the people be ? says 
Voltaire, in speaking of the Egyptians, who worshipped 
onions, and beetles, and apes : and where the people are 
treacherous, and cruel, and cowardly, what wonder that 
their gods are the gods of the pagan or idolater, blood- 
thirsty, abominable and unclean, like the monsters of 
the Greek or the Eoman, of the Hindoo or the Mexican? 
Let the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus carry out 
the parallel — if they dare. 

But observe. To expect so much of the professed 
Believer, is to admit the truth of what is meant to be 
denied : a purifying and exalting power in faith : a 
transforming influence, call it by what name you may, 
in the teachings of the Gospel. Yet more — it is to 
look for a change of life, which, if not caused by a 
change of heart, must appear very wonderful to the 
Unbeliever, if not wholly unaccountable. 

But if a parallel to the strange contradiction between 
professed belief and practice among Believers, might be 
found, not here and there, but constantly, among men of 
the world — what then ? Would not the worth of this 
objection be lessened, just in proportion to the uniformity 
and frequency of its occurrence among Unbelievers ? 

And if so, let me ask in all seriousness and fairness. 
if you believe there is now living upon earth a man, 
woman or child, with the gift of reason, whose behavior 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 145 

does not sometimes give the lie to habitual profes- 
sion ? 

And when this happens, do you always charge upon 
the individual, either hypocrisy, or self-delusion ? Or 
do you make some allowance — remembering how much 
you yourself may need — for the infirmity of our nature ; 
and for provocation, hurry, or suprise ? a want of pre- 
paredness, or self-possession, or the strength of habit ? 

And if you ever do this for a man, or woman, of the 
world, why not for a professed Christian ? If you are 
charitable to Unbelievers, why not to Believers '? It 
were but reasonable to expect more charity of you, 
toward Believers ; for, the higher the standard, the 
more frequent, and the more alarming, must be our 
deficiencies. 

But we may go further — much further. Let us 
apply your reasoning to a case, where we need have 
nothing to do with what the parties may profess to 
believe, or not to believe ; because we know, of our own 
knowledge, that they must believe, and cannot help 
their belief, whatever they may say to the contrary, 
even while that belief is contradicted, by almost eveiw- 
thing they do or say, while upon earth. 

You are amazed — you are overwhelmed with astonish- 
ment perhaps, that any reasonable man should think of 
supposing such a case ; and you begin to think I am 
not serious, or that you may have misunderstood the 
proposition. 

And yet such cases are to be found at every step, 
among your associates and companions. They have been 

f'nninl r'VPVA' wIiAvn on/1 nf oil + itv»qc< frnm fno n^nrirmin Cf • 



146 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

and they will continue to the end of time ; and though 
you cannot believe it possible, yet you, yourself, are 
just such a ease, and to you, I mean to appeal for the 
truth of what I am about to say. 

The proposition is, that a fixed and rooted belief, 
not an alleged nor professed belief merely, but a belief 
so evident, and so unquestionable, as to leave no doubt 
in the mind of any reasonable creature, may co-exist 
with habits of daily and hourly contradiction ; of con- 
tradiction, so startling and so strange, that we could 
not believe in such a co-existence, but for the unchange- 
able history of Man's nature, the uninterrupted experience 
of countless millions — for countless ages perhaps — and 
our knowledge of ourselves. 

That there may be no possibility of mistake, or 
evasion, or subterfuge, let us look at some great clear 
wondrous truth, which nobody, however prone to doubt, 
would ever think of denying. 

But is there any such truth ? Would it be worth 
while to look for any such truth, since men may be 
found to deny the shining of the sun at noon-day. upon 
the authority of Bishop Berkcly ? 

Let us see. 

You profess to believe that life is uncertain, death 
certain : 

That you are not sure of living another day : not 
sure indeed of being allowed to draw another breath : 

You profess to believe that you are liable to be taken 
away, without warning or notice : that, come when it 
may, to the great mass of mankind, with here and 
there an exception, death is very sure to be not only 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 147 

unwelcome, but unexpected : and that, even to the 
bereaved and broken-hearted ; to the aged, and to the 
helpless ; to the weary and heavy-laden, it is almost 
always an object of wholesome terror, every- where, and 
at all times. 

Are not all these things true ? And are they not as 
true of others, as of yourself? And are they not, 
moreover, truths of such a nature, that no man ever 
thinks of denying them — well knowing that he would 
not be believed, if he did ? And truths of such a 
character, that we all know, of our own knowledge, 
that all mankind must believe them, whatever they 
may pretend to the contrary, just as we, ourselves, 
believe them ? 

Yet more ; upon the supposition that you are no 
Atheist — that you believe in some kind of Hereafter — 
md that you are not to be classed with ' undevout 
Astronomers', you are probably in the habit, upon every 
suitable occasion, of professing to believe, perhaps for 
:he encouragement of your children, or the comfort of a 
jeloved wife, or husband, that the whole business of 
ife is rightly to prepare for death ; for the fast-ap- 
proaching, iinescapabh doom of the mightiest, as well 
Is the weakest of God's creatures. Hence the toil, the 
T eariness, the self-denying drudgery, you submit to, 
ear after year, in laborious gathering for those you are 
o leave behind, whether many or few, strangers or 
indred. And all for what? — only that you may be 
omembered ; that you may live again, somehow : for 
iven the Atheist — if there be such a mistake upon 



148 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

You know that you believe, at least, in the certainty 
of death, and the uncertainty of life. But suppose you 
were called upon to prove your belief — this very belief 
— to some loftier Intelligence, having no knowledge of 
man' s history, and no experience of death, how would 
you go to work ? 

Would you hope to satisfy him by reiterated assever- 
ations ? This, you know, would be utterly hopeless — if 
your life did not correspond with your professed belief 

But does it ? Or did it, ever ? Are you not giving 
the lie, not only every day, but every hour, to that pro- 
fessed belief ? nay more, to what every -body on earth 
knows — although, by the supposition, that higher Intel- 
ligence may not know — to be your real belief, beyond all 
question, doubt, or cavil ? 

Would he not disregard all your declarations and 
professions ? Would he not say — being without know- 
ledge, or experience, by the supposition — How is it- 
possible that this man, or this woman, can hope to per- 
suade me ? What a farce ! counterfeiting so much, and 
believing so little ! Where is that deep and lofty seri- 
ousness ? that steadfast and serene, though child-like 
and simple trust, under trial, disappointment and sorrow, 
bereavement and suffering ? Where the patient self- 
denial ? the unwearied, sleepless watchfulness ? and 
where, in short, are the unmistakeable signs of prepara- 
tion for death ? 

How could he believe you ? 

And if he could not believe you — why should we be 
discouraged because you, being without our experience, 
and our knowledge, refuse to believe our declarations. 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 149 

however constantly repeated, so long as our daily walk 
and conversation give the lie to them ? 

What then is the conclusion to which I would 



arrive 



It is this. People, without knowledge or experience, 
must believe upon the testimony of others, or not 
believe at all. 

And we, who profess to have experience, aver that « 
there is such a thing as a spiritual regeneration. 

You reply that we are mistaken — that we do not 
believe what we profess to believe — because our lives 
contradict our professions. 

To which we answer. So do yours. We appeal to 
your own personal experience ; and we say, leaving you 
to argue the question with yourself, where you cannot 
be overheard, that your own life not only contradicts 
your professions — or professed belief — but daily, hourly, 
and at every breath almost, what we all know that you 
must and do believe, and cannot help believing. 

And therefore, the objection you have raised, though 
plausible on the face, and formidable enough, unques- 
tioned, being proved worthless, by your own hourly 
experience, where you could not possibly be mistaken, 
falls to the ground of itself, and forever. 

Is it not so ? Is there any flaw in the demonstration ? 
Is not the analogy complete ? Is not the behavior of 
Christians, where it contradicts their alleged belief, 
entirely of a piece with your behavior, and with that of 
all mankind, where it contradicts, not profession, but 
belief; rooted, fixed, unquestioned and unchangeable 
belief? 

13 



150 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

You believe in the certainty of death, and the uncer 
tainty of life ; that you are not sure of living anothe: 
day, though you could not, if your life depended on it 
furnish any proof that would satisfy another, unless h 
had a like belief already — founded on a similar experi 
ence. 

Were you called upon for the proof to-day, not of th( 
facts themselves, that Life is uncertain, Death certain 
and always nearer than we think ; but of your belief ii 
these facts, what would be your answer ? "Would yoi 
dare to appeal to your daily walk and conversation ; 
Or would you not rather appeal to the questioner.' 
knowledge of himself? to the deeper instincts, anc 
more awful mysteries of Man's nature ? 

Be not deceived. You profess to know yourself. L 
there a single act of your life, which would be likely t< 
satisfy another, having no experience of death, anc 
therefore no belief in death, apart from your represent 
ations, that you really and truly believe in death ? 

Occupied on earth as he finds you, day after day, ho^ 
could he ever be persuaded that you do of a trutl 
believe in that certain, that ever near, and jet nearei 
doom, alike unavoidable and unchangeable, which mei 
have agreed among themselves to call death ? As! 
yourself, my dear friend, what would be the nature anc 
amount of proof you would require, to satisfy you thai 
another believed in death, if you had no other knowledge 
of the dread mystery, than that which he may have 
communicated to you. 

Xevertheless you believe ; and are astonished thai 
anybody should ever think of questioning your belief 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 151 

In other words, you do believe, and we all know you 
do, though your daily walk and conversation would be 
thought wholly unreconeileable with such belief, had we 
no experience ourselves. 

In what particular then, do you differ, with your 
inconsistencies, from the ' People of G-ocV, or from pro- 
fessed Christians, in theirs ? Having no experience like 
theirs, you question the reality of their belief; alleging, 
that if they did believe, as they pretend, whether 
honestly or otherwise, you do not undertake to determine, 
they could neither eat, nor sleep. And yet, you yourself 
are constantly doing, though in a more aggravating and 
perplexing way, just what you charge them with — 
giving the lie, every-where, and at all times, not only 
to your professed belief ; but to your well-known, most 
undoubted, and unquestionable belief. 

Xow — between the Believer and the Unbeliever, there 
is a great gulf. Do you deny this ? Do you not see 
and feel this, in all the striving and turmoil about you ? 
in all the changes, and all the business of the World ? 

Suppose another talking with you, face to face; another, 
who had never seen death, nor heard of death ; and, 
having no experience of death, could have no fear of it ; 
and suppose — you will forgive me, I hope, for dwelling a 
moment here, and slightly changing the illustration — 
[suppose you were to tell him what you know of death — 
I how strange, how terrible, how certain: suppose you 
[were to go a step further, and speak of what may follow 
death and judgment, according to the best of your 
(knowledge and belief: and then suppose that your 
llife — -your daily walk and conversation — were just what 



152 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

they are now, neither "better nor worse, you yourself 
"being the judge — and the witness — giving the lie to 
your professions — would it be possible for him to believe 
you ? "Would his own understanding be sufficient ? 
Would he not require a supernatural illumination ? — 
faith in you, notwithstanding your weakness and wa- 
vering — faith in G-od — faith in what is unsearchable, 
and faith in every-thing ? 

And yet you do believe, and like others below you, 
tremble : though he may not, and cannot. His inability, 
however, does not interfere with you — it neither hinders 
nor changes your faith : for you know of your own 
knowledge ; you cannot be mistaken. 

Another illustration might be of use here — to show 
the strange inconsistency between belief and practice — 
clear and fixed belief, which cannot be questioned, with 
our daily and hourly practice. 

All know, and all would acknowledge, if rightly ques- 
tioned thereto, that our greatest earthly blessings are 
the commonest, and the blessings most to be desired. 
That reason, health, speech, sight and hearing, with the 
power of becoming better and wiser, like air and water, 
though not often counted among our blessings, even 
while they are acknowledged among the necessities of 
our being — just as if all had them, and all God's 
creatures had a right to them, by purchase, birth, or 
inheritance — are nevertheless our greatest blessings : 
blessings without which, life itself would not be worth 
having. 

Of course, therefore, believing this, he who, with his 
eyes open, barters any one of these — or endangers it — 



i 



A CHANGE OF HEART. 153 

for any of the pleasures of transgression, must be beside 
himself, or besotted, or under some strange delusion. So 
we should suppose — and so we should all reason, had 
we not our own personal experience, to prove that our 
belief, no matter how fixed or certain, does not, under all 
circumstances, determine our behavior ; though it may 
have, and in the long run, must have, its influence. 

To say, therefore, that a man does not believe what 
he pretends to believe, merely because that alleged belief 
is clearly inconsistent with his behavior — is, to say the 
least of it, with all our experience of ourselves, very 
weak reasoning. 

But, after all, how are you to persuade, or help 
another, so long as he is without experience ? Must it 
not be God's work ? And if so, is it not clear, even to 
your understanding, as a man of the world, or as a 
woman of the world, that you can never be made to 
believe in that, of which you yourself are wholly 
without experience or knowledge, unless you believe 
upon evidence that may be questioned : upon evidence 
therefore, which calls for faith, and pre-supposes truth 
in Man ; or by the operation of some higher influence, 
which overmasters the understanding, and silences for- 
ever all presumptuous questioning ? 

In other words : must he not undergo a change of 
character, before he can believe you ? — and must not 
you undergo a change of heart, or character, before you 
can believe the professing Christian? Must you not have 
some sort of knowledge, and some sort of experience, 
which you are without? 

And what then? Because you do not believe, and 
13* 



154 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

cannot believe now, is that any good reason why you 
never should believe ? or why you should not try to 
believe, by putting yourself in the way of obtaining 
experience for yourself ? What say you ? 

And now let us come to the point. If you do not 
decide this question for yourself — God will decide it for 
you. This, you believe — do you not ? Have you much 
time to lose then ? Suj)pose he should decide it against 
you to day, where will you be tomorrow? Life is uncer- 
tain, you say — death certain. Are you quite sure that 
you believe this? that you really understand it? 

You are one of the great multitude perhaps, who 
cannot make up their minds ; or who, being very busy, 
or very prosperous, are obliged to suspend their decision. 
But will God suspend his ! Travellers along what they 
acknowledge to be a dangerous path — unable to make 
up their minds, to look about them, or to inquire the 
way ! and trying to persuade themselves, that inasmuch 
as they have not been able to come to a decision, they 
have therefore nothing to fear ! 

But in point of fact, are you not deceiving and 
betraying yourself, most shamefully ? Every time the 
question springs up in your heart, every time you are 
troubled in spirit, and 'coming events cast their shadows 
before', and you fail to decide one way, do you not in 
fact decide the other way ? God will have no neutrals. 
We must all be for him, or against him. Whatever else 
you may believe, or not believe, this — if there be a God 
— you cannot help believing. 

Perhaps, too, you cannot understand why some people 
are so much in earnest, while the great body of profess- 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 155 

ing Christians are sleeping on their posts. Can it be, 
you say, that while thousands are untroubled, and only 
here and there one troubled, that the many are wrong, 
and the few right ? 

Hear what the Saviour himself says to lukewarm 
professors, in reply to this very objection, as if antici- 
pating your thought, by nearly two thousand years. 

To the Church of Laodicea, he says, Eev. 3: 15, 'Would 
thou wert either cold or hot !' 

And what is this but to say, that the worst possible 
condition is that of lukewarnmess ? 

For the lukewarm are the self-satisfied — the untrou- 
bled — whether in the church, or out: and they it is, 
who mislead others, and betray them to death. 

Better be cold — better the icy coldness of heart, 
which makes itself felt, and alarms the spirit of man to 
seek relief. By the constitution of our whole nature, 
we swing from one extreme to the other, and more is to 
be hoped from that brother, or sister, who has reached 
the utmost degree of coldness, than from those who have 
stopped half-way, entirely satisfied with themselves, and 
furnishing all about them with an excuse for doing no 
more, and going no further. 

But be of good cheer, brother ! for if there be life, as 
we all know there is, in the very dust of the pyramids, 
no matter how deeply buried, nor how long, in the 
darkness of forgotten empires, which comes forth anew 
with rejoicing beauty and greenness, whenever the sun- 
shine and the dew fall upon it, or the warm breath of 
Grod's upper sky passes over, surely we may hope for a 
full harvest from the living soil of human hearts, always 



156 OBJECTIONS WTIGHED. 

full of seed, after the great Husbandman hath once 
passed oyer them, whatever may be the dreariness of 
their desolation, if G-od but breathe upon them at last. 
But when the shower comes, wo to all, whether professors 
or non-professors, who cover up their hearts, or shelter 
themselves under pretence of preparation — they might 
as well carry umbrellas. If the heart be unvisited, or 
unrefreshed, there is no hope ; and if you are betrayed 
by such professors, however terrible it may be for you, 
it will be much worse for them. Of that you may be 
assured. 

But still, you cannot make up your mind. Are you a 
simpleton ? Or do you want courage — manhood— or 
womanhood, to face the question? hoping to be overlooked 
or forgotten at last, when G-od's angel encampeth around 
about them that fear him, and the Destroyer goes forth, 
commissioned from on high, to waste the heritage of 
Earth ? Like the desert-bird, you shut your eyes, and 
believe there is no danger, because you do not see it; and 
that after all, there may be no such thing as death and 
judgment, and no Hereafter worth mentioning — perhaps. 

But suppose you should be mistaken, as the ostriches 
are sometimes — what then ? 

And others are like you. There may be ten thousand 
times ten thousand upon the earth, at this moment, as 
there always have been, to keep you in countenance. 

But — bear with me a moment longer, I pray you — but 
— although many of these, and perhaps most of them, 
through unexpected help from above, may be led to open 
their eyes, far enough at least to see the darkness about 
them, before it is too late, forever — there are some, and 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 157 

this too, you must believe, unless you are now what I 
myself was but the other day, a conscientious, untrem- 
bling Universalist — some who never will do this. 

And how do you know that you yourself are not 
among that number? What assurances have you against 
sudden death ? If unprepared, what reason have you 
for believing otherwise ? What hope ? 

But if, instead of thousands, or tens of thousands, 
there should be only one — one only of all God's creation; 
and if that one bore a mark upon his forehead — not the 
mark that was put upon the forehead of the first 
nun-slayer that he might live — nor that which burns 
forever upon the forehead of Lucifer, that he may bear 
rule for a time ; nor that which, according to universal 
tradition, betrays the wanderer that was doomed to 
tarry here, until the return of the patient Sufferer he 
smote in passing — but the seal of death, of unchangeable 
and everlasting death, like that which may be supposed 
tu distinguish, from all his towering compeers, that 
' Son of perdition', who betrayed, not his friend only — 
not his Lord and master — but himself; and for thirty 
peices of silver ; and then, as if that were not enough, 
went away and hanged himself, to bind the bargain : 
and if he that bore that seal of death — wholly uncon- 
scious of it himself, perhaps, while others around him 
were standing aghast with horror, should happen to 
cross your path, in the busiest thoroughfare of life, or 
be found sitting by your side at supper, or near you 
at some public meeting, or in the House of G-od, what 
would be your feelings ? Would you not shrink from 
all companionship ? Would you not shrivel at his 



158 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

approach ? Would not his clearest earthly friends fly 
shrieking to the solitude of their chambers ; or to the 
wilderness and the sea-shore, and cry to God for mercy, 
and for help, if he followed them ? 

But hear me ! How know you that the mark is not- 
burning now — now, at this moment, upon your own 
forehead ! that seal of death — of unchangeable and 
everlasting death ? Visible not to others, not to your 
neighbors, or friends, not even to your beloved ones, or 
yourself ; but known to be there, nevertheless, by them 
that have followed you, it may be, from your youth up, 
with locked hands and beseeching eyes — the loved and 
the lost. 

With some of earth's children it must be so — some 
will perish unforgiven — as }*ou have acknowledged, and 
all would acknowledge, if their eyes were opened. And 
why may it not be so with you ! What have you done 
heretofore — what are you now doing — to justify the 
unreasonable hope, you sometimes express, that you may 
be overlooked or forgotten ; or that God may be pleased 
to except you from the operation of his fixed, unchangeable 
law — for such, after all, is the ground of your only hope. 
translated into language. 

By sudden death, or otherwise, many will perish 
forever. God himself hath said it— and the ministering 
angel that encamps round about your house, may see 
the signet of death, or madness, burning at this moment 
upon your forehead, or mine, although we may not feel 
it, nor others among our familiar friends behold it. 

And because we do not feel it, nor believe it, will 
that change the fact ? If you thrust vour head into 



OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 159 

the lion's mouth, will he not be likely to tear you ? If 
you dip your hands into molten iron, will it not be likely 
to scorch you, whatever you may believe, or pretend to 
believe, to the contrary ? The lion may have been 
trained by Van Amburgh himself: your hands may 
have been washed, over and over again, with warranted 
chemical preparations, and you may have lost no time 
in the experiment ; still, if you have a moderate share of 
common-sense and common honesty, you must acknow- 
ledge that your escape — if you do escape, was not owing 
to your belief ; but to something else. A.ncl if you 
should cast yourself headlong into the sea, with a suit 
of armor to weigh you down ; or fill your lungs with 
carbonic acid gas, would your belief be likely to buoy 
you up, or empty your lungs ? 

And so too, if you cast yourself down headlong from 
that temple, where God himself, and not the Adversary 
of souls, hath placed you, may you not be dashed to 
pieces — whatever theory you have taken up ? — unless 
indeed He should do for you what his own beloved Son 
durst not tempt his Father to do for him — and ' give 
his angels charge of you'? 

But, after all, what difference can it make, whether 
the mark be upon your forehead, or not ? and whether 
visible or not, either to yourself or others, if He, who 
sees the end from the beginning, sees it there ? 

Xone to yourself, certain^ ; for you have betrayed 
yourself without shame, you have doomed yourself, with- 
out remorse or pity ; and for much less than the thirty 
pieces of silver, or the mess of pottage, for which Esau and 
Judas bartered away, the one his birth -right, and the other 



160 OBJECTIONS WEIGHED. 

his everlasting soul. To your wife, or children, to your 
husband, or father, or mother, or friend, or neighbor, it 
might be a help and a warning : for the benighted and 
the lost among the wanderers of earth, might be able 
to find their way to their rather, by the destroying 
brightness, that was slowly consuming you, and all your 
hopes, forever. 

Perhaps you may rely upon the testimony of those 
who, after professing to believe, continued for a season, 
and then fell away : If so — are you not wronging your- 
self ? Are the few to prevail over the many ? Are 
backsliders and traitors — or self-deceivers, at the best — 
worthier of belief than sober-minded consistent profes- 
sors ? Look about you. Judge of Christianity, not by 
the faithless and the few — but by the faithful, whether 
few or many. Do this for your own sake — not for mine 
— or you dishonor yourself, and cheat your own highest 
hopes. 

Think of all this, I beseech you, and be prepared. 
You may not have an hour to lose. You may be just on 
the point of throwing yourself headlong into a dark, 
fathomless abyss, where the weight you carry must sink 
you lower and lower, with every desperate struggle, and 
every gasping cry : for the night cometh but once, and 
the day dawneth but once, to the children of Men. As 
the Lord liveth, we shall find it so at last, when our 
sun has gone down forever. 



PRAYER, 161 



PRAYER. 

" Behold he prayeth ! " 

What Sin is, we shall never know, till we, ourselves, 
are sinless. And when will that be ? 

"Well do we know, that the more familiar we are with 
any form of transgression, the less hateful it appears : 
while, on the contrary, the less we know, and see, and 
hear, of any particular sin, the more astonishing it 
seems, not only that we ourselves, but that any-body 
should ever be guilty of it. 

Liars and cheats glory in not being thieves : thieves, 
in not being robbers — house-breakers, highwaymen, 
forgers and ravishers, wonder at murderers, and pirates. 
And all together cry out with horror, at infanticide, 
parricide, or incest — save where infanticide, as in the 
East, is common ; parricide, as among certain of our 
Korth-American tribes, by starvation, a well-established 
usage ; and incest, as in the first peopling of the world, 
or in Persia, a common thing. Murderers by profession 
— duellists and soldiers — get so familiar with Man- 
slaughter, as to believe the downright killing of a brother 
to be less criminal than theft, or falsehood, or a breach 
of promise at the gaming-table ; and, when charged with 
14 



162 PRATER. 

falsehood, that forbearing to shoot the accuser, is no 
"better than sheer cowardice. 

And why? Because, being familiar with one form of 
transgression, and but little acquainted with the other, 
the first appears trivial, the last, unforgivable and 
shameless. 

If we, like the Angels above, were sinless, how should 
we feel, how speak, of the first transgression we ever 
heard of ? Would there be any such thing as a little 
sin ? Would any. the smallest sin, be trivial ? Ask the 
Angels themselves. The simplest act of disobedience, 
or forgetfulness, or un thankfulness, would be justly 
aggravated, by the consideration, that it was the breach 
of a small duty ; in other words, the failure to do what 
was easy to do. 

Hence, the necessity of prayer. Capable of sinning, 
we require to be guarded against all temptation ; to be 
continually strengthened from above. 

And hence, the just and beautiful inference, that the 
better we are, and the better we become, the more 
hateful, and strange, and affronting, to our sense of right, 
will every kind of transgression appear. 

Let three different persons be employed to make three 
different maps of the world : for three different purposes. 
Let one be required to furnish a map, showing by an 
appropriate color, where Protestantism prevails through- 
out the whole earth, or in other words where the Bible 
is free as the air we breathe : Let another be called to 
represent on another map of the whole earth, and by 
the same color, the highest condition of political freedom 
— or the largest liberty of the people : and another, to 



PRAYER. 163 

show by the same color on a third map, the highest 
condition of Woman throughout the whole earth ; in 
other words, where she is best treated, and has most 
influence. Then lay these three maps before you ; and 
they will be found, not only interchangeable, but identi- 
cal. 

Are not these results therefore in some wa} T , and so far 
as we may judge by experience, inseparably connected? 
And although others pray — the Eoman Catholic and 
the Mohammedan, the Hindoo and the Idolater — still 
they do not pray as the Protestants do ; and therefore, 
may it not be regarded as a fair and proper inference, 
that prayer, as employed by protestants, hath much to 
do with the liberty of Man, and the hope of Woman ; 
and therefore, with the household virtues, the education 
of children, and the progress of knowledge ? 

But why pray ? God knows better than we what we 
need : he is readier to give, than we, to ask : and he is 
unchangeable. 

Granted : But first. We are commanded to pray — 
distinctly and clearly — and if we were unable to find a 
reason for prayer, still it would be our duty to pray. 

Xevertheless there are reasons, and God has revealed 
them : 1st. By showing that men are strengthened and 
made worthier, even while their prayers do not seem to 
be answered : as, where the Saviour prayed all night 
long, and ' sweated as it were great drops of blood' — and 
yet, to the understanding of Man, his prayer was not 
answered — the cup did not pass from him: and 2dly. By 
putting on record answers to prayer, and blessings with- 
out number, to encourage us- 



164 PEAYEE. 

Yet more. He lias enabled us, by the gift of reason, 
to see — if we will but turn our eyes inwardly upon our 
own hearts — one of the purposes of prayer. For example. 
Here is a father, having within his reach, and laid up 
in store, all that his children need, in sickness or in 
health, under all circumstances, at all times : and he 
knows what they need, much better than they do ; and 
is always readier to give, than they are to ask : and yet — 
whenever they desire anything out of the common way, 
he will be inquired of — he will be sought — he will know 
the reasons which influence the party : in other words, 
he wants evidence that the child himself understands 
the subject, and feels the need. Is this unreasonable, 
for an earthly father ? On the contrary, is it not just 
what we all do — and not only to our children, but to our 
friends — neighbors — and others ? Have we not a plea- 
sure in stopping the mouth of a petitioner — in answering, 
before he has finished the prayer — even though we know 
beforehand what he wants — or needs — and is about to 
ask for '? And so with acknowledgments — and so with 
gifts — to our Father, and to others. 

That God is unchangeable, is one among many reasons 
why we should pray. Having commanded us to pray, 
under heavy penalties — having encouraged us to pray, 
under rich promises — we must pray: because, being 
unchangeable, that which he threatens, or promises, that 
will he do. And, though they may not change his ulti- 
mate purpose from the first — still, as we never can know 
what such ultimate purpose was, nor what are the con- 
ditions beyond our reach, and how far above our under- 
standing, how foolish not to obey ! Do not men pray to 



PRAYER. 165 

earthly sovereigns — though reputed unchangeable, and 
unrelenting ? 

But God is every-where. 

True ; and so is the sunshine — and so is the hidden 
warmth of the sun : we breathe a luminous atmosphere. 
But he who desires to appropriate a larger portion of 
that brightness and warmth, for any special purpose — 
must use a burning-glass. Prayer is the Christian's 
burning-glass, whereby the wandering rays are brought 
together. Employ it ever so much, and instead of 
diminishing the supply to others — instead of impover- 
ishing others — we encourage them to follow in our 
footsteps, and to do the same thing : for the supply is 
inexhaustible. There is a fountain of light — a whole 
neighborhood may bring lamps and torches to the flame, 
and the supply will not be diminished — the lamp lighted 
at my lamp, takes nothing from my light — but propa- 
gates by touch, till the whole world is lighted up. Such 
is prayer — a burning-glass to the few that hold fast by 
it — a kindling torch to the many, to be passed from 
hand to hand, like the bale-fire of the Scotch, when they 
would rouse the people by clans. 

And why are not prayers always answered ? What a 
question ! Are the prayers of children always answered, 
by the most loving father? Are they not often so 
answered, that the answer does not appear ? Are not 
refusals, blessings ? And again, if we could always have 
what we wanted for the asking, we should always do 
nothing but ask, and be satisfied with asking ; and 
substitute our understanding for God's ; and, in our 
caprice, or whim, like little children, be forever in danger 
14* 



166 PRAYER, 

from our toys and play-things, or from the gratification 
of our wishes. 

But the prayers of the wicked are an abomination, 
saith the Bible ; and, as we are all wicked, therefore all 
prayer is an abomination. 

To which I answer, 1st. That no such Bible can be 
found. The passage stands thus : 

' He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, 
even his prayer shall be an abomination.'' Proverbs, 
xxviii : 9. 

' The way of the wicked is an abomination to the 
Lord.' lb. xv : 9. 

And again ' The thoughts of the wicked are an 
abomination to the Lord.' lb. xv: 2G. 

2d. But since God commands prayer, encourages 
prayer, and answers prayer, though all men are wicked, 
the passage cannot mean what you and others, while 
arguing against prayer, have supposed. To pray, even 
for the wickedest, even for the Chief of sinners, must be 
something better than not to pray. The cry for mercy 
heard from a drunken sailor at midnight, tumbling 
headlong into a stormy sea: that unearthly wailing 
shriek of Xapoleon, as the unquenchable spirit burst 
away from the tabernacle of flesh, tearing a passage for 
itself, as through a beleaguering host ; like the out- 
stretched arms, the awful countenance, and the lifted 
body of the wretched man that was carried over the 
Falls of Niagara the other day, as if standing up : all 
these are but so many different kinds of prayer, which 
God hears every moment, in the pulsations of tho 
Universe. 



PRAYER, 167 

Whatever we may think of snch prayer, while in 
safety, or untroubled in health, it is all that the best 
may have time for ; and our Heavenly Father knows 
how to make allowances. If it were not so, He would 
have told us : and how otherwise could the poor wan- 
derer be saved, either at sea, or on shore, with no church, 
no closet, no companionship, no help, no sympathy, no 
time for meditation, and no time for prayer ? Like the 
fishermen of Galilee, the sailor must be converted without 
delay, perhaps without prayer, and at once. 

Look at the Centurion. He was not a disciple — not 
even a Believer, till questioned ; but he felt his unwor- 
thiness. ' Lord ! I am not worthy that thou shouldest 
come under my roof — and inasmuch as love, deep and 
earnest love always fills us with a sense of our unworthi- 
ness. and leads us to exalt the beloved object, by under- 
valuing ourselves, that love was counted to him for 
righteousness, even while he pleaded for another — and 
in all human probability, an Unbeliever, like himself ; 
or if a Believer, a Believer, without knowing it. 

Xor must we overlook the parable of the unjust Judge, 
who was worried into hearing the Widow's plaint, by 
sheer importunity ; nor the friend, who granted the 
prayer of another, not because he was a friend — but 
because he persevered, and would give him no peace ; 
nor the case of that father pleading for a beloved son, 
whom the evil spirit oftentimes tore : and cast into the 
fire and into the water ; nor that most encouraging and 
beautiful suggestion of the Saviour touching earthly 
fathers : for what earthly father, if his son asked for an 
egg, would give him a scorpion ? — or if he asked for a 



168 PRAYER. 

fish, would give him a serpent ? or if he asked for bread, 
would give him. a stone "? How much more shall your 
Heavenly Father, who feeds the young lions., and clothes 
the lily of the field, know how to give good gifts to his 
children ! — with or without prayer '? — No, God forbid ! 
— but with prayer, and acknowledgment, and thanks- 
giving. 

Why do the disciples never teach by parables "? May 
it not be that we should infer too much ? Or might we 
not be afraid of doing so ? for parables, like prophecies, 
are not always clear : and for that reason may sometimes 
require to be interpreted by their Author. When we 
have a parable therefore, without interpretation, urging 
us to bold and importunate prayer, we may be sure that 
the obvious meaning is the real meaning. 

Well then, we must pray — and so must you — and so 
must all men. every-where. and sooner or later, in one 
way or another : with outcries and lamentations, or 
shrieks and wailings. or in the language of a broken 
heart and a contrite spirit, with ' groanings that cannot 
be uttered.' 

We must understand our wants, to feel them : and we 
must feel them, before we can pray. We cannot pray, 
and we know it, and God knows it. for anything we do 
not really desire ; but if we desire fervently and passion- 
ately, though we never put that desire into language, we 
pray. Think of this ! If all our earnest wishes, and 
strong desires, and importunate yearnings, are indeed 
prayers — what would become of the best of us. but for 
God's infinite compassion ? How affronting, and how 
awful, to the majesty of God ! N« wonder that such 



PRAYER. 169 

prayers — the prayers of the Ambitious, of the Adulter- 
ous, of the Man-stealer, and the Destroyer, and the 
Wicked — are an abomination ! In this sense, they are so. 

Yet more. We must pray with singleness of heart 
— with no secret purpose, at war with our pretended 
purpose — and with simplicity — or how can we hope to 
prevail, or even to be heard, whether in our closets, or 
in the great congregation ? 

We must 'agree together, touching what we would ask' 
in his name. We must be of one mind — having one 
wish, and one hope ; unwavering and steadfast : for God 
will not listen to the double-minded man. ' Unstable 
as water, he cannot excel.' And what earthly monarch 
would listen to a multitude, or even to the cries of two 
or three, who were not agreed together, touching what 
they would ask ? We must be ' constant in prayer' — 
Some people appear to believe, that importunity may be 
troublesome — and that they, who do importune the 
Being, that knows all our wants, are intended to be 
reproved by the passage, ' They think to be heard for 
their much speaking.' It is not much speaking — but 
rather frequent speaking, or frequent thinking — that 
God requires. The poor innocent, who, in a time of 
great danger and fright, began his prayer thus — ' 
Lord ! thou knowest I trouble thee but seldom', is a just 
representative of this class, though Believers. 

And consider the parable of the Pharisee and the 
Publican. Both were sinners : both were blinded by 
transgression ; but one felt his blindness, and the other 
did not ; and therefore, he prayed, as God will have us 
to pray, and went down justified accordingly. 



170 PRAYER 

' Son of David ! have mercy on me !' was the cry of 
the poor, helpless, "blind man, sitting by the way-side, 
when he heard the trampling multitude go by; for 
he could not follow Jesus, even afar off, nor find him, 
without help, as they did: nor would he be silenced, even 
by the disciples ; but only cried the more, when they 
rebuked him, ' Son of David ! have mercy on me !' 

What wonder the Saviour turned back to him, and 
said, ' What wouldest thou have ?' 

' Lord, that I may receive my sight !' 

Now, if he had not understood, and felt his blindness, 
would he have done this ? Would not Jesus of Xazareth 
have gone by unheeded? or uncalled for? Believe me, 
friend — our e}"es must be partially opened, before we can 
see the darkness about us. 

But — ' I am thine, and thou art mine,' says the 
Saviour. Then why pray at all, but to ourselves ? * Ye 
are in me as I am in the Father,' Does it follow then, 
that because we are his, and he ours ; or because we are 
in him, as he is in the Father, even while lie himself, 
prayed to the Father, and all night long ! that we are 
not to pray at all, nor to either ; or that there is no 
sense in which we are not his, nor he ours ? or not in 
him, nor he in the Father ? Surely, if we are anything 
less than Jehovah, our being in him, or in the Saviour 
himself, cannot make prayer worthless, or unnecessary — 
if our Blessed Master found it becoming and proper ; 
nay, absolutely needful. 

Who that has never been afflicted, nor troubled, nor 
admonished of God, can know anything of the comforts 
and consolations of prayer ? Can they whose health 



PRAYER. 171 

has never failed theni, understand its preciousness ? 
Our last days might be always our best days, did we 
know how to avail ourselves wisely, and in proportion 
to our need, of the blessed privilege of prayer. The 
longer we live, the wiser we are, almost in spite of 
ourselves : for though we forget much, we remember 
more, of all that we have experienced, up to the failure 
of memory and reason. The fewer days we have left, 
the more precious they ought to be ; and every hour to 
him, who is soonest to see his Fathers's face, ought to 
be as a life-time, whatever may be his age. Is it not so 
with all our gifts, and blessings and comforts ? The 
fewer we have, the more we prize them. Like the 
books of the Sybil, as their numbers diminish, their 
worth is augmented. It is even so with character. 
The less we have, the more jealous we are, of encroach- 
ment and abbreviation. 

To be understood — nay, to be felt, and acknowledged, 
our blessings must be withdrawn, or endangered, or 
threatened. "We feel only the cords that are pulled at, 
or snapped. AVhen they are untwisted, we continue as 
we were, untroubled, unawakened. 

Yonder stands a pale sickly woman, basking and 
shivering in the sunshine. Yet she may enjoy more 
than you and others, who have never known the sickness 
of the heart, from ' hope deferred', in a whole life -time. 
Her very step is a prayer. The deep clear eyes, and 
that mouth so full of thankfulness, and the gently 
clasped hands underneath her gray cloak — what are 
these but so many visible prayers ? 



172 PRAYER. 

Are not our best Christians always the most afflicted ? 
Are they ever the most abundantly prospered ? Do not 
the disappointed, and the bereaved, the tried and sor- 
rowing learn at last, like Paul, to ' glory in their 
tribulations'? Compare the behavior of one who has 
been well for fifty years, and is then afflicted for a single 
day ; with that of another who has been afflicted for 
fifty years, and is then relieved for a single day. With 
one, the sufferings of a whole life are overbalanced by 
the joy of a day, and a correspondent thankfulness will 
manifest itself; while with the other, perhaps, the enjoy- 
ments of a long life, are outweighed by the sufferings 
of a day. 

Very thankful should we be for all such mercies : and 
very thankful we may be, that we have no more to be 
thankful for — without displeasing our Heavenly Patker, 
if we go to him with prayer : for he ; knoweth our 
frames that they are but dust, and he pitieth our 
infirmities.' 

Well may it be said, that ' His mercy endureth for- 
ever.' If it did not, where should we be now? — and 
where hereafter ? 

Bear in mind, Brother ! I beseech thee ! that of 
him, who is forgiven much, much will be required — 
much love — much obedience — and much labor. 

But you are not altogether convinced. You cannot 
pray till you are invited to pray. It is God's business 
to call on you first. Would you ask this of any earthly 
Monarch ? You are ready to return his call, perhaps ; 
for this, in plain English, is the answer of a multitude. 



PRAYER. 173 

They cannot "bring themselves to make the first advances, 
even to their Everlasting Father. But the Savionr has 
not waited for this. Lo ! he stands at the door, knocking 
— and his golden locks are drenched with the night- 
dews. Wilt thou leave him there? Wilt thou not open 
to him? — ' Behold he prayeth !' 



15 



174 UNIVERSALIS^, 



tJNIVEBSALISM. 

Having myself been a conscientious Universalis!, for 
many years, I am led to look with sorrow and pity upon 
all those, who, misled perhaps, much in the way that I 
was, have never "been persuaded to reconsider the subject, 
nor to regard it as at all an open question, "before it- 
shall "be too late forever. 

A thoughtful, conscientious, devout Believer in the 
ultimate Salvation, or Restoration, of all God's reason- 
able creatures, whether human or angelic, is much to he 
pitied ; and the more perhaps, that, if all men are to 
"be fmalry restored, it were hard to find a reason why 
Lucifer himself, the Son of the morning, with all his 
embattled legions, may not be enthroned anew amid the 
hierarchy of Heaven. 

But with all my pity for them, I do not well see how 
they are to be helped, so long as they are satisfied with 
their faith, and wholly dependent upon the sincerity ci 
their belief, to shield them from the consequences, if 
they should prove to be mistaken at last : for say what 
we may of honest belief, it is probable — not to say 
certain, that a just God will not modify any law that 
he may have established for the government of the 
Universe, merelv to accomodate cur unbelief. 



UNIVERSALISM, 175 

Believe what we may of fire and water — the properties 
of both may continue unchanged, forever and ever, 
notwithstanding our belief. 

We may fashion, or acknowledge, ' Gods many and 
Lords many,' and build temples to them, and burn 
incense to them, in the secret chambers of our heart; 
but, however honest we may be in such worship — having 
within our reach the sources of a better knowledge — 
He who says ' Thou shalt have no other Gods but me', 
will not be likely to hold us guiltless, or to change his 
character, for our accommodation — will he ? 

This then is the fixed result. We must believe at our 
peril — and what is more, wc must believe rightly, at our 
peril. 

Here lay my danger for many years : and for that 
reason, I propose to invite such of my late Brethren, as 
are anxious to know the truth, and to follow it, whither- 
soever it may lead them, to bear with me for a few 
minutes, while I endeavor to arrange, for their consider- 
ation, the views that have led me to a change of faith. 

And here let me say that I never did quite like — nor 
do I now — the way they are treated by Christians of a 
different faith. I hold that they are to be reasoned with 
— not laughed at — -nor wondered at — nor misrepresented; 
for multitudes are honest, and their lives blameless. 

"When the late Dr. Payson left a pew, because a Uni- 
versalist preacher was about entering it — -he took upon 
himself to decide a question forever, which God has 
reserved for himself, to be decided at the judgment day: 
in other words, that the blood of souls he saw upon the 
skirts of a fellow-man was enough to set him apart from 



176 UNIVERSALISM. 

all Christian sympathy, even in the House of their com- 
mon Father. For this, I am told he was afterwards sorry 
— and I believe it : for otherwise, he must have misun- 
derstood the teaching of the Great Master, who shrank 
not from fellowship with the chief of sinners, and 
subjected himself to the charge of being a wine -bibber 
and a glutton — and possessed by a devil — that he 
might preach the living truth to them, who would hear 
it in no other way, and upon no other terms. 

Nor do I better like the way they are spoken of, or 
otherwise openly dealt with, by conscientious men of a 
different faith : for we may be assured that if they will 
not bear to be reasoned with, like ourselves, they are all 
the more entitled to Christian courtesy and forbearance ; 
and we greatly mistake our mission, if we step aside to 
sneer at, or revile them. 

Two examples of what I regard as blameworthy and 
mischievous, if not unchristian dealing with them, are 
now before me. 

The first is from the New York Observer, and appears 
better calculated to exasperate, than to persuade ; to 
provoke, than to conciliate ; and however well meant, 
may be so answered, as to turn the tables upon the joker, 
and in that way do a mischief to what I receive as the 
truth of God. 

It is to be found in a biographical sketch of Father 
Haynes, that extraordinary man, who is called by the 
1 Ambassador' of New York, most unhajrpily for itself, 
• a poor negro'. Instead of saying, as the magnanimous 
do-—' Great let me call him, for he conquered me'; for, 
to degrade our adversary, is to dishonor ourselves, and 



UNIVERSALIS!!. 177 

provoke others to side with Lira : they sneer at, and 
seek to belittle him. Yet father Haynes appears to 
have been quite a formidable foe, and to have had, 
with all his playfulness and pleasantry, a scorching 
earnestness, not always to be found in the summer- 
lightning that plays about our path, after a warm day, 
as if it could not be otherwise than harmless. He 
delighted in a sort of gladiatorial controversy, where 
the battle-axe and the mace, the glittering spear and 
the winged arrow, might all be employed to advantage ; 
and where, like Dr. Johnson, ' if the pistol missed fire, he 
knocked you down with the butt end of it', and the 
paragraph below, which I give at length for its temper, 
grew out of a passage at arms with the great champion 
of the Universalist Faith, Hosea Ballou, a man I have 
heard in my youth, and very much loved to hear. 

' It is true, that Mr. Haynes's perennial vein of wit 
was in his side-arms, which never became rusty' — what 
strange confusion of metaphor by the way ! — 'And he 
knew well when to unsheath. And on no occasion was 
he so likely to do it, as when he met a man professing 
to preach the old serpent, "ye shall not surely die." Of 
this, scores of anecdotes, besides those noticed in his 
biography, might be given, if the following is a fair 
sample. 

' While he resided in Manchester, the Universalists 
got up a synagogue, and had occasional preaching at the 
foot of the hill, a little out of the village. One of 
their leading men after receiving repeated cuts, which 
he had himself provoked, said, 

' Well, Mr. Haynes, you are a man of learning, and I 
15* 



178 UNIVERSALIS}!. 

can't pretend to cope with you ; but in a few weeks, one 
of our most able ministers is to be here, and I shall 
bring him up to talk with you.' Mr. H. replied, 'Well, 
well, bring him along ; I shall be glad to see him.' 
Not long after, the promised champion and his companion 
were seen ascending the hill, and meeting another 
Universalist, informed him whither they were going. 
He advised them to turn back, assigning as a reason, 
'he is an old fox.' But they proceeded, and Mr. Haynes, 
being called out of his study, was introduced by his 
neighbor to the stranger as ' our preacher whom I 
promised to bring to your house.' Taking him by the 
hand in his usual familiar manner, Mr. II. said, ' How- 
d'ye-do ? How-d'ye-do ? ! you are the man who 
preaches that men may lie. and swear, and steal, and 
get drunk, and commit adultery, and murder, and yet 
escape hell, and get to heaven after all — ain't you ?' 
' No,' said the preacher, very indignantly, ' I preach no 
such thing.' 'Well,' said Father Haynes, with the 
most patronizing air, i you believe so; don't you?' A. 
few hems and haws closed the interview, and the visitors 
withdrew, fully satisfied to let ' the old fox' rest 
unmolested in his own burrow, if he would only let them 
alone.' 

Now suppose that Universalist preacher, having his 
wits about him, instead of answering ' No\ had answered 
1 Yes\ in all truth and seriousness — ' yes, to be sure I 
do — don't youV How would Father Haynes have escaped? 
Which way would he have looked ? for he must have 
answered yes, or given the lie to all preaching ; and 
made the gospel of none effect ! 



UNIVERSALISM. 179 

And supposing father Haynes had gone further and 
replied ' very indignantly' — ' no! I preach no such thing' ; 
and the Universalist preacher had gone a step further, 
by saying ' well' — with the most patronizing air — ' You 
believe so, don't youV Would Father Haynes have dared 
to answer No ? On the contrary, would he not have 
been obliged to answer both questions in the affirmative ; 
or look very foolish ? 

Or suppose that, to the very dangerous inquiry of 
the orthodox preacher, ' 0, you are the man who 
preaches, that men may lie, and swear, and steal, and 
get drunk, and commit adultery, and murder, and yet 
escape hell, and get to Heaven after all — ain't you ?' 
he had answered somewhat after the following fashion. 
' Most certainly J do : for 1 preach the gospel as I 
understand it ; and so must you believe — do you not ? 
Else what hope can there be for a sinner ? "Was it not 
the preaching of Christ himself ? 

'And has it not been the preaching of all the prophets 
and all the priesthood, of all the martyrs and apostles, 
from that day to this ?' What a pitiful figure, father 
Haynes must have cut, instead of his poor, bewildered, 
chap-fallen brother. So much for sarcasm. 

It never convinces, never persuades, however it may 
wither, scorch, or exasperate ; and if we sincerely desire 
a change of belief in our brethren, we must approach 
them in a different way ; for if we are right, they are 
in the greatest possible danger, and for want of a proper 
warning, in a proper spirit, may be lost forever. Would 
you try to provoke a man sleeping on the verge of a 
precipice ; or about to be swallowed up alive — or so 



180 universalis:.!. 

warn a fellow creature, just within the ripple of Niagara, 
that he should feel affronted at your interference, and 
be thereby hindered from seeing his danger, till it was 
too late for escape ? 

And so with all reasoning, though intended for people 
of your own faith. Be thoroughly satisfied with it 
yourself, before you presume to lay it before the mind 
of another, even though he may think as you do : and 
be very sure that it cannot be answered by your adver- 
sary, before you open your batteries upon people of a 
different faith. 

For example. I find in the Christian ALirror of to- 
day, the following communication, which I give at length, 
because of my reverence for the aged and faithful 
editor, and in the hope that ' M,' the writer of the 
article may be led to reconsider the argument, which he 
thought so well of, though it did not ' originate with 
himself.' 

' Thou shalt find it after many days.'' In 1S3S. at 
a holy convocation, our State Conference, among the 
many who greeted me by name, was an aged gentleman 
whose name I did not recollect. He pronounced 'Knight.' 
Instantly I recollected him. ' Do you remember brother, 
M', said he, ' to have preached a lecture about fifteen 
years ago at the house of Capt. W. on the road from 

W cl to X Tillage ?' ' I did once preach 

there,' was my reply. 

' I was there,' said he, * having then recently returned 
from Boston, where I had read Balfour's writings, and 
thought myself a confirmed Universalist. But you used 
an argument in your lecture, which " knocked out my 



UNIYERSALISM. 181 

underpinning ;" and I could no longer build on that 
ground.' I inquired what was the argument ? ' It was 
this', was his reply. ' If there be no unhappiness in 
the eternal world, then God did the inhabitants of 
Sodom and Gomrorah the greatest possible kindness ; for, 
he took them instantaneously away from our wretched 
and sinful world to heaven.' I had used that argument 
(not original with myself) though I had clothed it in 
my own language. And when I met this my friend, as 
before stated, fifteen years had passed away. He had 
been hopefully converted to the Saviour — had received 
a public education, been licensed, ordained — honorably 
and usefully employed in the gospel ministry. The 
same good man who died in Fisherville, N. H. less than 
three years since. And I know not how many souls 
may have been born into the kingdom of God through 
his instrumentality — nor what will be the final result 
of his influence on the everlasting interests of many 
immortals, who would otherwise have been lost' — all 
which may be safely admitted. 

But, continues the writer, ' Such facts may well 
encourage the friends of Christ and of souls, in evangel- 
ical efforts to bring sinners to him ; and in prayer for 
his blessing upon their efforts ; even though for years 
they may see no good resulting. Christians may hope 
to witness happy results, even in this life ; but especially 
in the life to come. Yes, " after many days," when 
years and months and days have ended — when "the 
books shall be opened" — when instrumentalities shall 
be seen in all their tendencies — when the Holy Spirit's 
effectual workings, with all Heaven-appointed means, 



182 UNIYERS ALISM. 

shall be developed — when cause and effect shall be 
acknowledged by all concerned, as altogether under 
Christ's hand, then shall those who, in faith, cast their 
bread upon the waters, " find it after many days." ' 

Now, certainly, if this very weak reasoning satisfied 
the wandering brother, he must have been easily satis- 
fied ; and perhaps, being more than half convinced, 
wanted only a plausible excuse for coming over. That 
God chooses the weak things of this world to confound 
the mighty, and the foolish to confound the wise, we all 
know to be true — we see it every day — and a stronger 
case I have not met with for a long while — but that 
such instruments are to be multiplied, or that such 
reasoning is the better, or safer, or ever worth repeating, 
I very much question. 

We but furnish encouragement for our adversaries, 
when we mistake shining straws for glittering spears ; 
bulrushes, interwoven with cobwebs, for bulwarks, or 
intrenchments. 

Let us apply the very same reasoning to ourselves, and 
to our neighbors of the orthodox faith, and see where it 
will land us. 

Why do we pray for them, and why do they pray for 
themselves, when drawing near the end of their pilgrim- 
age, that they may be lifted up, and healed, and 
strengthened for the business of life ? Why not pray, 
fervently and constantly, that they may die, and not be 
restored ? and the dearer they are to us, but all the 
more earnestly? 

Why did Lazarus come forth ? Why was he recalled 
to life, by the friend that loved him ? Why do we weep 



UXIVERSALISM. 183 

over children ? thereby forbidding them to go to Jesus 
— and so far as we have power — hindering them. If 
there be happiness hereafter, as we profess to believe : 
and if the world be what we say it is ; then, after we 
have made our peace with God, the sooner we die, the 
better. 

With every-thing to lose, and nothing to gain, why 
stay here? It would be the 'greatest possible kindness,'' 
for God to hurry us away, as he did the dwellers of 
Gomorrah ; there being, for us, ' no unhappiness in the 
eternal world'; and nothing here but danger, and snares 
and pitfalls ? 

Furthermore: Life is a blessing — even to the wretched. 
Whatever people may choose to say, or pretend to believe 
— Life, here, as a gift of God, is always a blessing ; 
thou.'rli it may be better for some of us, hereafter, that 
we had never been born. To such, therefore, the future 
being taken into the account along with the present, 
life may not, on the whole, be a blessing: though, while 
here, the comforts and pleasures of .life, in every case, 
being so much greater than the pains and sorrows, 
which, after all, are the exceptions, life itself may be 
justly regarded as always a blessing. 

Capital punishment is founded upon the supposition, 
that even to those who have nothing to live for, death 
is a terror ; however true it may be, that the more 
unworthy they are to live, the less fitted they are to 
die. The fewer our blessings, the more precious — and 
the more thankful we arc. Our very wickedness, and 
evil reputation, but make us cling the more desperately 
to life. The last penny of the famished beggar, may be 



184 UXIYERSALISM. 

worth more to him, than millions to a Eothschild. To 
the poor wretch, who has but one friend — that one 
friend is the whole world. 

Is death terrible to the good man ? Why should it 
not be so to the bad man, who is wholly unprepared ? 
Was ever a universalist any surer of happiness hereafter, 
than are most orthodox believers ? And yet, they are 
in no hurry to die. And the best of mankind cling to 
life — whatever may be their experience, or preparation ; 
and are unwilling to die, if it could be helped, or to 
go to Heaven before they are sent for. And this, being 
a beautiful, though mysterious instinct of our nature, 
apart from the award of our consciences, we cannot hope 
to quench, or overcome. 

And now, suppose the peojjle of Sodom and Gomorrah 
had been as much better than their neighbors, as we 
have good reason to believe they were worse, would not 
such a death — a death of unutterable horror by suffoca- 
tion — have been very terrible ? 

Suppose they had all been of our faith, and accustomed 
to pray thus — ' from battle, and murder, and sudden 
death, good Lord deliver us !' would the taking of them 
away, instantaneously, from our wicked and sinful world 
to Heaven, be regarded by themselves, or by others that 
loved them, as the ' greatest possible fondness'? If so — 
why pray to be delivered ? Why sorrow for the sepa- 
ration ? 

And if you say, that death is always to be shunned ; 
that God himself has implanted the wholesome fear of 
death in all our natures, and that we are to sorrow with 
a godly soitow, and nothing more — over the departed — 



UNIVERSALIS*!. 185 

then you acknowledge the argument, if argument it may 
be called, from Sodom and Gomorrah, to be worthless ; 
for, if to the righteous, death would be unwelcome, and 
a death of such unutterable horror, a sore calamity, why 
does it not follow, that the inhabitants of Sodom and 
Gomorrah were visited, and most awfully punished, by the 
hot displeasure of Almighty God, on earth, even though 
they went forthwith 'from this sinful world to Heaven'? 
How a reasonable creature could be satisfied with such 
an argument against Universalism, I cannot understand ; 
unless, to be sure, upon the supposition that brother 
Knight had been converted, without knowing it. 

And as little am I satisfied with such reasoning, on 
the other side, as wc have here. It is to be found in a 
paper entitled, ' Endless Misery vs. Future Probation', 
which appeared in the Practical Christian, published by 
the Hopcdale Community, March 12, Is 52. The writer 
is what they call a Eestorationist, as I myself was but 
the other day, under the name of a L'niversalist. 

' Must we necessarily conclude, because there is no 
" intimation," in certain passages, to the contrary, that 
the Infinite Creator will say to His finite creature, at 
any period of his existence — "Now, you never shall be 
holy, never shall find redemption ; but you shall continue 
to gin, and continue to suffer eternally, and all your 
tears of penitence, and all your cries for mercy, and all 
your desires for goodness and heaven, shall be unavail- 
ing ; and I will henceforth laugh at your fears, and mock 
I at your calamities, as they come rushing with perpetually 
I increasing numbers and force upon you; and torment 
10 



186 UXIYERSALISlf. 

and torture you forever to the extent of my omnipotent 
power ?" Must we necessarily conclude that such will be 
the doom of all who go to their graves impenitent, simply 
"because they are threatened with " destruction," or 
"burning," or punishment under some other form, and 
there is no "intimation 7 ' in that specific threatening, that 
they shall not be compelled to revel in iniquity, and 
writhe and howl in anguish through interminable ages ? 
Horrible idea !- — shocking blasphemy !' 

' "When Elisha, the prophet, once expressed his fears to 
Hazael, that he, on becoming King of Syria, would bring 
certain evils and cruelties upon the children of Israel, 
Hazael replied: u "What ! is thy servant a dog, that he 
should do this great thing?" And were the Almighty to 
speak in our language, to those who charge it upon Him 
that he will spend an eternity, in cursing, and crushing, 
and tormenting His offspring, I doubt not, that, in a 
similar spirit to Hazael's, though infinitely holier, He 
would say: ""What! is thy Maker a Demox that He 
should thus dishonor and debase Himself before His 
whole Creation ?" And those who attribute to Him 
such cruelty would be the greatest sinners in the uni- 
verse, did they not do it ignorantly, and through the 
influence of a wrong religious education. As it is, it is 
one of the greatest wrongs they can do to God ; and they 
can do nothing more effectually to cause men to rebel 
against Him.' 

Here the writer — a very honest, well-meaning man, I 
dare say ; and I am the more ready to believe this, from 
having had nearly the same views myself — as I have said 



TJNIVERSALISM. 187 

before — though not for the same reasons, and I know 
that I was honest, has really answered himself, without 
intending to do so. 

Observe. Hazael says to the Prophet who warns him 
of the future, ' What ! is thy servant a dog, that he 
should do this great thing !' He did not believe the 
word therefore. 

Nevertheless, he did that very thing ! 

And how happened this ? Like the multitudes round 
about us, he had a theory of his own — a hope of his 
own ; faith in himself, though he had no faith in the 
prophet. And what was the result ? He did the very 
thing he believed it to be impossible for him ever to do ! 

And therefore, why may not the Lord God omnipotent 
hereafter do, just what this bold questioner believes, 
and for just such reasons, to be impossible for him to 
do? 

But further. Let us look into other reasonings, founded 
— honestly enough no doubt — upon the belief of the 
writer. He forgets, as I did, that we are to have no other 
gods, but the Hebrew God — Jehovah — as revealed to us 
in the Scripture ; that we are to build up no gods for 
ourselves — either of silver, or gold, the commonest of 
our idols — -or of earth, or clay — we are to worship no 
shadowless creatures, within the secret places of our 
own hearts. Of these very scriptures, he says, ' They 
teach that " the Lord is good unto all, and that his 
tender mercies are over all his works"; — that " God is 
Love"; that " He doth not willingly afflict, nor grieve 
the children of men"; that " He delighteth in mercy, 
and hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked"; that 



188 UXIYERSALI3M. 

" He chastens us for our profit"; that " He -will not 
contend forever, neither "be always wroth, lest the spirit 
should fail before Him and the souls He has made"; 
that " He is unchangeable, without variableness or the 
shadow of turning." In brief, that He is a Universal 
Father.' But, continues the Practical Christian — 

' Such was God when he revealed Himself of old ; 
such is He now, as Opeph, I doubt not, believes. But 
where is the " intimation" that He will not act upon 
the same principle in the treatment of sin and sinners 
there that He does here ? An Apostle says : " whether 
we live, or whether we die, we are the Lord's" — His 
children, He our Father, the Father of all still. If He 
loves the wicked here, He loves them there ; if He pities 
them here, He pities them there ; if He punishes them 
to subdue and reform them here, so He does there ; and 
if here He forgives, accepts, and blesses the penitent, 
the same He will also do there ; and forever, as now, 
seek the holiness and happiness of all His intelligent 
offspring. These positions are Scriptural, resting upon 
even the letter of the Bible ; and no man can believe 
this world to be the only state of probation, without 
denying the immutability of God, and making Him fickle 
and changeable like man. " The Lokd is good uxto all." 
Does Opeph believe this ? He professes to. " He is op 
oxe mixd and xoxE can turx him." Does he believe 
this also! If he does, he cannot, by any moral possibility, 
believe that this is " the only day of grace." And 
what a strange notion it is, that our exchanging worlds, 
if we are unregenerate, changes God and all His purposes 
concerning us ! — changes the unchangeable God V 



UNIVERSALIS^!. 189 

Now — if unchangeable, in the sense here contended for, 
God must never do anything for the first time : whatever 
is, must continue forever ; unchanged — unchangeable. 

The idiot must be always an idiot, here and hereafter : 
the Laplander always a Laplander : the pagan — the 
Idolater — the cannibal — the lunatic — the rich and the 
poor — just what they are now, and always have been ! 
All probation here would be a pitiable and hopeless 
failure — and probation hereafter, though never intimated 
— nor shadowed forth, in the dark sayings of priest or 
prophet, apostle or martyr, God or the Saviour — but on 
the contrary always declared not to be — since, as the 
tree falleth, so it lieth, and ' there is no work nor 
device in the grave' — all the probation they were ever 
fitted for. 

Thus much for samples of what I must continue to find 
fault with, in the reasonings, or temper, of controversial 
sectarians, however conscientious they may be, under 
all other circumstances. 

And now for what weighed with me for many years, 
and so heavily, as to hinder all further investigation ; 
for I held it to be not only undesirable, but dangerous, 
to go further ; and that upon such (Questions, the sooner 
our minds are made up, and settled forever, and unchange- 
ably, the better for us, both here and hereafter. A long 
continued controversy with ourselves, upon questions, 
about which honest, clear-headed, patient men differ so 
widely, appeared so unprofitable, that I preferred 'a little 
more sleep and a little more slumber', as at least the 
safer, if not the wiser course. 

My proposition was, that God will never punish for- 
16* 



190 UXIYERS ALISM. 

ever, even the most abandoned, incorrigible, and wicked 
of his creatures : and for the following reasons. 

1. Because, being a God of infinite wisdom, and 
power, and of infinite mercy and compassion, and there- 
fore ' seeing the end from the beginning,' he would not 
have created Man, as he did, in his own image, to 
everlasting dishonor — nor, indeed, anything, to be 
everlastingly wretched. 

2. Being no respecter of persons, and infinitely just, 
and therefore impartial, he would not suffer such per- 
petual distinctions to prevail. 

3. Because the wicked are his enemies, and God is 
Love : And the whole errand of the Saviour was to 
show that God loves his enemies — for God so loved the 
world that he gave his only begotten Son for it — and 
that we must love our enemies, and pray for them, and 
forgive them, and do good to them here, and if possible 
hereafter, and not evil ; for the injunction is all-com- 
prehensive and perpetual ! Love your enemies ! and 
bless them that curse you ! And it cannot be supposed 
that the infinite Jehovah would teach one thing, and 
practise another. 

4. Because the Bible teaches clearly, that ' all the 
ends of the earth are to be saved' ; and that Christ died 
for all. 

5. Ind because in Acts iii : 19, 20, and elsewhere, 
we have passages like the following. ' And he shall 
send Jesus Christ, which before was preached unto you : 
whom the Heaven must receive, until the times of the 
restitution of all things, which God hath spoken by the 
mouth of all his holy prophets, since the world began'. 



UNIVERSALISM. 191 

6. And because eternal death — or suffering — is not 
so clearly taught in the scriptures, as to be adapted to 
all understandings — else would it be impossible for 
honest men to arrive at different conclusions. They 
never disagree about murder, adultery, or thieving, cov- 
etousness, or lying — and why should they differ about 
everlasting death, if it were plainly taught'? 

Such — however plausible, or however empty and frivo- 
lous, they may appear — were the reasonings, in substance, 
that walled me about, as with triple brass, for many a 
long year, and kept me from all wandering and all 
misgiving, and, of course, from all further investigation: 
till I was wakened, as by a thunder-peal, without even 
desiring it, and against my own will. 

But having now stated my objections — honestly and 
clearly, let me try to answer them, as honestly, and as 
clearly. 

Answer 1. If it be true, that because the Scriptures 
do not clearly teach eternal death, or suffering ; or 
because they do not so clearly teach it, as to convince 
all mankind, it were better to lay the scriptures aside, 
and reason for ourselves without their help, then it 
follows, that the scriptures are worthless, and ought 
never to be appealed to, where men disagree ; but only, 
where all mankind are precisely of the same opinion. 

Answer 2. That God is a being of infinite Love and 
compassion; and that he sees the end from the beginning; 
that he is no respecter of persons, and impartial — after 
his own way, and not after man's way — nobody that 
believes in a God, or hopes in a God, will deny. But 
what then ? Is he not also a God of infinite justice and 



1.92 UNIVERSALIS^!. 

truth ? And if these attributes are irreconcilable — or 
do not coincide — must they not neutralize each other ? 
And then what is there left of God himself ? 

And supposing it were otherwise, and that certain 
infinite properties, overpower other infinite properties, 
who shall say which of the two must prevail — justice 
or mercy, for example — and when and where ? Infinite, 
inexorable justice — or the infinite mercy that cndureth 
forever — boundless love, and pity, and compassion, all 
alike infinite ? 

If we apply this very reasoning to all that we know, 
and sec, and hear, of God's dealings with the sons of 
men, will it bring us a single step nearer the result ? 

God may do to the living here, all that we say he 
cannot, and will not, do to the dead hereafter, because he 
is no respecter of persons — and impartial ; and this, 
age after age he does, to whole generations and races 
of men ; and yet, who is there to charge him with folly, 
under the name of partiality ? 

Let us not be cheated by words. To talk about the 
impartiality of a Being, who doeth his pleasure alike in 
Heaven and Earth — who says he will have mercy upon 
whom he will have mercy — that some of the children 
of men, like the potter's vessels, are made to honor, and 
some to dishonor ; and who proves it every hour, in all 
his dealings with mankind from the first — and whom we 
dare not charge with partiality, or injustice, do what 
he may — is no better than wilful blindness, in the use 
of language, or downright hallucination. 

What know we of almighty God, but by and through 
the Scriptures, which, as we do not understand them 



UNIVERSALIS^!. 193 

alike, we are to put aside for the present — may it not 
be forever! — or through his works upon earth, and among 
mankind ? 

Now, that God, as a matter of simple truth, and 
within the knowledge of all mankind, not only distin- 
guishes between man and man, but between whole 
nations and races, ago after age, is not to be gainsaid. 
Some live and die in thick darkness — others, in slavery 
— others are pagans and Idolaters — for thousands of 
years — man- worshippers or devil- worshippers, from the 
first ; others are in sorrow and want, in grief and terror ; 
others are blind, or deaf, or helpless, or dwarfed, or 
unsightly and loathsome — others idiotic, or distracted, 
childless, or otherwise cut off from the fellowship and 
the consolations of life. 

And all this, be it remembered, while others live in 
the enjoyment of all that earth can yield — of tall and 
stately proportions — developed alike in body and mind 
— -magnificent and shapely — endowed with health and 
strength, and understanding, and with the capability of 
indefinite — perhaps of infinite progression. 

Is God partial here ? Is he unjust here ? Is he a 
respecter of persons here? If the answer be no, then, 
all these differences may be continued hereafter, and the 
poor Laplander may dwell in the darkness of a frozen 
sky, while the negro swelters underneath the tropical 
heats of another world, forever and ever, while the 
favored Caucasian varieties, and the long-enlightened, 
flourish forever and ever, without any impeachment of 
God's justice, or impartiality. 

But perhaps, to avoid this uncomfortable conclusion, 



194 UNIVERSALIS}!. 

you bow your head reverentially to what cannot be 
denied — the facts about you from the beginning — and 
admit that God is partial — or in other words, that he 
not only may do, but does continually, what if he were 
an earthly Father, in parcelling out a rich inheritance 
among his children, would be called both unjust and 
partial — according to the received use of language. 

Be it so. Then you admit one of two things, from 
which there is no escape : either, that when we speak 
of the Supreme Lawgiver, who may qualify, repeal or 
change what we suppose to be his own laws at pleasure 
— else he would not be supreme — and we must go one 
step higher ' to find out God to perfection' — we cannot 
charge him with partiality or injustice, do what he may; 
nor even for doing what in man would be properly so 
called: or that, by the original constitution of his nature, 
as the uncreated, the everlasting and the unchangeable 
— he is, or may be, under certain conditions, both unjust 
and partial. And in either case, what becomes of your 
argument and your hope as a Universalist ? 

You have appealed to analogy, and the answer of 
analogy is clearly against you. 

You turn away from the Scriptures, and appeal to 
experience : but experience answers, and you are over- 
whelmed. 

You summon this world for a witness against the 
other world : Here to testify against Hereafter — And 
lo ! their answer ! 

All that we know of God, come that knowledge whence 
it may, shows dearly that he is always consistent with 
himself: that he is unchangeable in fact — however 



UNIVERSALIS*!. 195 

changeable he may appear ; and that therefore he will 
continue to do, hereafter, what he has done hereto- 
fore. 

Consequently, if some are happy, and others wretched, 
here — some greatly privileged — and others greatly dis- 
qualified — it may be so hereafter, be the causes, or 
consequences, what they may. 

3. But we are commanded to love our enemies, and 
to do good to them that wrong us — and therefore, you 
say, God must do the same — and that, forever and ever, 
and not, as we see that he does now, and here, sending 
his rain alike upon the just and the unjust, and his 
richest blessings upon the evil and the good — but always, 
and forever. 

But are there no limits to this command ? Judge for 
yourself. And is God obliged to do anything, merely 
because we are commanded to do it ? Whom shall He 
worship and serve, to justify us in our worship and 
service ! 

If you answer that there are no limits to the command 
— then the dark treacherous analogy you depend upon 
would make it obligatory upon Jehovah to do one of two 
things — to love all his enemies, though they should 
continue to be his enemies forever and ever ; to love 
them, and minister to them, notwithstanding their 
banishment to the world of wo, which would not help 
the Universalist — since he might share in such love, and 
be none the happier ; or to continue to forgive, and 
bless and restore them, though they should continue to 
make war upon Him, forever and ever, even in his very 
presence-chamber, and round about his throne. 



196 UNIVERSALIS^!. 

"Would not this be loving his enemies letter than his 
friends ? rebels better than martyrs ? the worst of all 
his creatures more than the best ? Where then would 
be what is called the recompense of the just ? — if no 
distinctions were made but such as would necessarily 
tend to the encouragement of disobedience ? 

And if distinctions were made in favor of the just — 
there is an end of the whole question ; for who shall 
say where such distinctions are to stop — or to begin — 
perhaps on earth — perhaps above — whether now and 
here, or only hereafter ? 

And, as well might you argue that God must do 
whatever he commands us to do— and be whatever he 
commands us to be — submissive and obedient, for exam- 
ple ; or that God must and will do, of course, whatever 
he may require of us to do — and He, being of infinite 
wisdom and power, there should be no suffering, no sick, 
no blind, no naked, among all his creatures, and certainly 
not among all his enemies. 

You are commanded to clothe the naked, to feed the 
hungry, to comfort the afflicted — all of whom are 
sufferers by God's appointment. But God can do all 
this without your help ; and if his enemies were special 
favorites, would be likely to do all this, without your 
help. But does he ? 

If not, then that law given to us by the Saviour was 
intended for the creature, and not for the Creator : for 
Man, and not for God ; since, if it were obligatory upon 
God, there should be no suffering, no sorrow, neither 
want nor sickness, neither hunger nor nakedness, among 
his enemies, whatever there might be anions: his friends. 



UNTVERSALISM. 197 

If the law be for us, according to our ability ; and 
if you infer that, because He requires anything of us, 
therefore He will do it himself, and must continue to do 
it hereafter, then there would be no poor, no blind, no 
miserable upon earth — his power being unlimited. 

But such there are. The poor we have always among 
us. And therefore, the law is for Man, and not for 
God. 

Objections 4, 5, and 6, are not worth answering sepa- 
rately. That Christ died for all, is admitted' — that all 
the ends of the earth are called — and that if they obey 
the call of Him who says, ' Look unto me, and be ye 
saved, all the ends of the earth' — they will be saved, is 
clear — but that the restoration of all things, whatever 
else it may mean, means this, I deny. 

Finally : That honest men do sometimes differ, must 
be acknowledged, and — constituted as we are — no two 
alike in all the earth — and no man forever the same, 
but changeable, there seems to be no help for it, even 
with the Bible before them. "Where they do not, and 
cannot agree, therefore, what are they to do ? Cast aside 
the Bible, and trust to Nature with her dark revealings, 
and her dismal intimations ? That were hardly safe 
upon such a question. 

Or shall they gather together all the passages that 
seem to justify the hope of the Universalist, like those 
already mentioned — and turn away from all that appear 
to condemn that hope ; or diligently collect and com- 
pare all the testimony, and look about for illustration, 
into the dealings of God here, with ourselves, and with 
others ; and then, with prayer and lowliness, await 
17 



198 UXIYERSALISM. 

God's revelation of the truth ? What sayest thou, my 
brother ? 

That sinners are the special favorites of G-od, I ac- 
knowledge. Christ came to save sinners — the last sheep 
of the house of Israel. Sinners were all created but a 
little lower than the Angels ; but when restored, who 
shall say what sinners may not become hereafter ? To 
which of God's Angels hath He said ' Thou shalt have 
all things in subjection' ? Are we not all siimers-^-and 
always ? and is there not more rejoicing in Heaven over 
one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine 
just persons — ' Angels it may be' — who need no repent- 
ance ? It was for the spendthrift and prodigal, that the 
fatted calf was killed, and the robe and the ring brought 
forth ; and not for the son who had never gone astray ; 
for he had never so much as a kid given to him to make 
merry with. It was the lost lamb, the Good Shepherd 
left his whole flock to go after ; the one piece of silver 
that was lost, which led to a forgetfulness of all the 
other eleven pieces. But what then ? Are these indul- 
gences and exceptions to continue forever ? If so, what 
are the Heavens above to be peopled with ? 

God is to be judged of — here and hereafter — by his 
manifestations here : and not by our childish notions of 
what we call justice. The sun's brightness being but 
God's shadow- — what can we ever know of him but 
through such insupportable manifestations ? He may 
have, and in fact must have reasons, and always the 
best of reasons, for whatever he does — reasons which we 
are wholly incapable of understanding, or even of guess- 
ing out — else he icere not God. 



UNIVERSALIS^!. 199 

But there can be no such thing with the infinite 
Jehovah as what we call reasoning — or ratiocination — 
and yet ; where there are many ways, he must always 
choose the best, and his reasons, if we like to call them 
so, must be unchangeable, instantaneous election. 

But however many good ways there may be, to bring 
about a given result, with God himself, as with man, 
everywhere and at all times, there can be but one best 
way ; and therefore, all the differences, hardships, ine- 
qualities and seeming contradictions which we see here, 
may, and probably will, continue hereafter, and perhaps 
for the same reasons ; for some are to be the least, and 
others greatest, in the kingdom above ; and as ' one star 
differs from another in glory', so ' in our Father's House 
arc many mansions' — and if it were not so, he would 
have told us ; and some ' are, and must be, greater than 
the rest.' 

And as no two human beings were ever so much alike, 
that one conscience would do for both — or one trial — or 
one judgment, analogy, the clearest and loftiest, would 
justify the expectation of differences in rank, and power, 
and usefulness, among the Hierarchy above : and who 
shall say how vast, how boundless — to be perpetuated 
forever and ever? It may be that we are to begin 
hereafter, just where we leave off here. Will you not, 
my brother, take up the subject anew, and reconsider 
all these questionings of the spirit ? 

You will. But when ? And why not now ? Why 
delay for a single hour ? Forward or back you must go, 
in the journey of life. You cannot stand still. Day bj 



200 UNIVERSALIS}!. 

day you are multiplying your transgressions, and, of 
course, enlarging your accountability — day by day, you 
are receiving, without paying. Where will this end '? 

One argument more, which occurs to me, may be 
worth a passing word. It may be stated briefly thus. 

God, being infinitely wise and powerful, must foresee, 
and could prevent, if he would, all transgression. There- 
fore, he cannot seriously mean to punish forever the 
helpless children of men, for carrying out his predeter- 
mined work — for ' offences must needs be'. If there 
were no sin, there would be no suffering ; and if there 
were no suffering, there would be no temptation — no 
trial — no patience — no resignation — no self-denial — no 
sympathy — no virtue. Sin, therefore, is a part of God's 
system — like pestilence, famine, war and earthquake — 
&c. &c. 

In other words G-od is the author of whatever happens, 
which he could prevent if he would — and therefore, he 
will not punish forever '? 

But why punish at all ? — in this world or the next ? 
for a single day, or for all eternity ? The reason would 
make it as unjust for God to suffer an hour's pain to fol- 
low any transgression, as it would be to afflict man with 
everlasting punishment. Why do we suffer at all here ? 
Why are the sins of the fathers visited upon the children 
— poverty — intemperance — evil-habits — or bad charac- 
ter ? Why does fire burn — or water drown — or poison 
kill — or halters throttle ? As they always follow cer- 
tain acts, not always transgressions, why does not our 
Heavenly Father, who might if he would, prevent such 



UNIVERSALIS^!. 201 

acts, interpose to save the children of men, his agents 
and ministers, from the consequences ? 

But suppose we apply this very reasoning to Man 
himself, in his dealing with his fellow-man. The pro- 
position is, that, inasmuch as God has the power, and 
might, if he pleased, prevent all transgressions, therefore 
he will not punish the transgressor — -meaning, in other, 
and less round-about phraseology, that God himself is 
answerable, and not man, for the transgressions of man ; 
and that, therefore, He cannot justly punish man at all, 
in this world, or the next. 

Great questions are involved here — but if we admit 
the premises — God's power — what then? Does it follow 
that God will not punish the transgressor, hereafter, and 
forever, because he might, if he would, have prevented 
the transgression ? How is it with Man ? 

Most crimes might be prevented, perhaps, by shooting, 
or hanging, or imprisoning for life, all dangerous or 
suspected persons — and all who are Convicted of a first 
offence. We, the People, have the power, and failing to 
exercise the power, if such persons are suffered to go at 
large, or even to live, therefore, we must be answerable for 
their transgressions — and they are not to be punished! 

If this be bad reasoning with Man — how dare we 
make use of it with God ? 

But enough — you are in the morning of life — you are 
perhaps fifteen or twenty, or in the strength of manhood 
or womanhood ; or in old age — three-score and ten, 
perhaps, or even older. 

But whether old or young, I pray you stop a moment 
17* 



202 UNIVERSALIS}!. 

and look at the question before you. The pojralation of 
the World is about one thousand millions. And these 
die out, upon the average of human life, in thirty years. 
If you are fifteen years of age, therefore, you have out- 
lived between four hundred, and five hundred millions, 
of human beings, who have gone to judgment, since 
you began to breathe the breath of life. Are you thirty? 
You have outlived, and buried, eight hundred, or a 
thousand millions ; if sixty, nearly two thousand mil- 
lions; if seventy-five, two thousand Jive hundred millions 
of men, ivomen and children ! 

And wherefore ? Why should you have been spared, 
where so many have perished ? What have you done, 
to deserve this ? What are you now doing, that your 
exception should continue ? 

And if you answer nothing — then why hope for a 
change hereafter, not in correspondence with what you 
see here ? And why complain of G-od's election, for any 
purpose, either here or hereafter ? 

But you are bowed to the very earth, it may be, with 
a sense of unworthiness, and utter helplessness. So 
much the better. Without this, there would be no 
hope for you. 

You are afraid to come out openly perhaps, and take 
upon yourself the obligations of a Believer. Afraid! 
Are you quite sure ? Have you not mistaken the word? 
Are you not rather ashamed to do so ? 

You may not be able to live up to what is required 
of a professor. Granted — and what of that ? Who is ? 
None do, and you are not likely to be better than the 



UNIVERSALISM. 203 

best man that ever lived. A wholesome and proper 
fear — and greatly to be encouraged — but what then ? 

Do you grow better by delay ? Or do you hope to 
overcome that very fear, which is the groundwork of 
your hope, provided it does not hinder your taking the 
first step, and the last. AYill it be diminished, by 
waiting and reasoning with yourself ? by withstanding 
the pressure you sometimes feel ? by becoming better 
acquainted with the Bible, with yourself, or with God? 

You go to Christ, my poor mistaken Brother, not 
because you arc worthy, but because you are unworthy ; 
and the more unworthy you are, the more welcome — 
Shall we then delay, that grace may abound ? — ' God 
forbid !' saith Paul. 

Christ came to save the lost; to call, not the righteous, 
but sinners to repentance ; to heal the sick — for the 
whole need no physician. 

Are you not sick ? Then do you need no physician. 
Are you righteous ? Then may you put back his out- 
stretched hands, without danger. If righteous, you 
have no need of a Saviour — no business with him — a 
Saviour could not help you, 

But, after all, how do you propose to make yourself 
more worthy ? — or less unworthy ? By further delay ? 
Are you, of yourself, able to fulfil the law, and the whole 
law ? If not, are you not increasing the hardship you 
complain of, with every breath you draw ? Are you not 
growing older — hardening your heart, by withstanding 
the suggestions and solicitations of the Holy Spirit? Be 
assured, my friend, whether young or old, nigh at hand 



204 UNIVERSALISM. 

or afar off, whatever does not soften the heart, never 
fails to harden it. Have you not found it so ? I 
appeal to you ; and leave you to answer the question to 
yourself, and here, as you will answer it hereafter, and 
to another. 

All obstacles, overcome, are helps. The accumulated 
strength, and tumultuous heaving, of the gathered waters 
in a spring freshet are augmented by the very barriers 
they sweep away. And so with every kind of ineffectual 
opposition. By yielding, we help to crush ourselves. 
By withstanding, the foundations of our strength are 
sometimes revealed, both to ourselves and to others. 

Nor is it sunshine that we always need — or a lamp 
that never pales nor flickers. We need mystery, as we 
do revelation ; darkness, as we do light. By day, we 
must have the cloud — by night, the pillar of fire, 
through all our wanderings ; in life, death — in death, 
life, to hold us to our allegiance, and make us watchful, 
to the end- 
Judge for thyself, thou that questionest the Uncre- 
ated, the Almighty, the Unchangeable, and the Ever- 
lasting, as if he were bound to answer thee, not with 

' Blasts of unseen trumpets long and loud 
Swelled by the breath of whirlwinds' — 

but as a man pleadeth, face to face, with a brother. 
Judge for thyself ! — but be merciful in thy judgment. 
Be not of those, who, like the newly couched for a 
cataract, look at one thing, and see another — or see all 
things alike, and all at the same distance, mistaking 



UNIVERSALIS*!. 205 

both tlieir magnitude and their worth, for want of 
knowledge and experience. 

One word more. If you knew you were to die this 
night, would you like to be found just where you now 
are ? I do not say, occupied as you now are, for no 
man living would answer that question with a yes : and 
if all mankind were to live as they would, if they knew 
that they should hear the words, this very day — ' Thou 
fool ! this night thy soul shall be required of thee', the 
business of the world would instantly stop forever — 
there would be an end of the nations; for however much 
we might desire to do all our duty — nevertheless, we 
should certainly fail. The near approach of death would 
paralyse, though it should not altogether disqualify, nor 
frighten : I do not ask, therefore, if you would like to 
be found employed as you now are — at this very moment 
— by the dread messenger : but whether you would like 
to be found no better prepared than you are now ? 

If you knew you were to live a whole year, a month, 
or a week, would you delay any further preparation, up 
to the very last hour ? But being unassured — knowing 
not how near you the Angel of Death may now be 
standing — nor whether you will be suffered to finish 
what you are now saying or doing, you delay ! Blind 
and presumptuous man ! Whither goest thou ! Hearest 
thou not the thunders of the cataract — the challenging 
of them that are set along the borders of the great gulf, 
and calling to one another hour after hour, ' Watchman ! 
What of the night !' 

Farewell ! Bright messengers are hurrying between 
Earth and Heaven, it may be with our every breath — 



206 UNIVERSALIS}!. 

and like the great ships of the ocean — the flying 
shuttles that weave, as with a web of iron, overshot with 
gold — the warp and woof that bind all the nations of 
Earth together — it may be that they are only for a 
season, and that if we mistake a message, or a signal, or 
turn away from the swift messenger in his upward 
flight — we lose our passage and forever ! 

FABEWELX ! 



ANTHEM. 207 



ALMIGHTY GOD! 

JEHOVAH ! FATHER ! FRIEND ! 

Almighty God ! The thunders of the Deep, 
Tumbling in darkness o'er the unbuilt Skies, 
Before the Firmament was lighted up, 
With self-sustaining anthems, or the stars 
Flamed forth to music, or the Host of Heaven 
Rolled chiming on, were prophecy and prayer ! 
One everlasting dirge ! The Universe, 
Unshaped and fathomless, lay there unquenched ; 
Heaving with prodigies and portentous throes. 
There lay the buried Future ! There the World ! 
Archangels, Thrones and Histories ! Life and Death ! 
And there the Pharaohs and the Ptolemies, 
Conquerors and Kings ! The Priesthood of the Sky ! 
The Cherubim and Seraphim ! And there, 
Assyria, Egypt, Babylon the Great ! 
Dominion, Power and Glory ! Rome and Greece ! 
The dread Hereafter ! Nineveh and Tyre ! 
And all the giant shadows that have stalked, 
Age after age, along the trembling earth, 
Sceptred and crowned, the Phantoms of a day! 
Prophets and Bards and awful Shapes of power, 



208 ANTHEM. 

Interpreters of G-od ! But where was Man ! 
Where the unsceptred Multitude ! and where 
The starry legend that blazed forth, on high, 
Along the crowded battlements of Heaven, 
With shoutings of great joy, when he appeared, 
Our Elder Brother ! fashioned like ourselves, 
Though mightiest among the Sons of God ; 
The loftiest image of Almighty Power ! 

Jehovah ! Jah ! The Terrible and Just ! 
God of the Hebrews ! Darkness ! — Mystery ! — Power ! 
Unsearchable ! What knew the giant race, 
Who saw thy shadow in the midnight sky, 
Thy footstep in the earthquake ! While they heard 
The roar of mountains smoking at thy touch : 
The trumpetings of Darkness round about : 
The thunderings of the Sea ; and with their arms 
Uplifted, as in prayer, together rushed 

Upon the nations headlong led by Thee. 

The God oe Battles ! Oversweeping thrones, 

And scattering Empires, like the desert sand. 

With garments rolled in blood : About thy throne 

Ten thousand times ten thousand awful shapes. 

In their tempestuous brightness pealing forth. 

/Forever and forever, Alleluiah ! 

To thee, the Builder of the Universe ! 

0, what knew they of Thee, Unsearchable ! 

Ancient of Days ! The everlasting One ! 
Thy Prophets gathering on the mountain-tops, 



ANTHEM. 209 

And holding back the curtains of the sky, 

While Patriarchs — Portents — and Prodigies, 

Kingdoms and Powers, and all the Pomps of earth, 

Nation by Nation, waking into life, 

Came slowly up, and looming to the stars, 

Went slowly by — diminishing to naught, 

Saw but the shadow of the King of Kings, 

And overlooked the Father ; while they bowed 

Before the great I am, and heard the rush, 

Of His ten thousand chariots, and the sweep 

Of mighty Angels, who excel in strength, 

A huge beleaguering Host, on outstretched wings, 

And all a-blaze with worship and with love. 

But lo ! the earthquake and the fiery storm, 

The tempest and the shadow passed away ; 

A gentle whisper followed, and a voice — 

A Father's voice — came sounding through the dark 

Of countless ages, and the Universe 

Took breath again ; and overflowing hearts 

Grew loud with thankfulness, and hope, and faith, 

And all the creatures of the teeming Earth, 

The very beasts that perish, and the Seas, 

And overhanging Skies, and stormy Winds, 

The little buds, and flowers, the sounding air, 

The lion's whelp and raven, while the stars 

Rolled chiming on, as ever from the first, 

Acknowledged Ood the Father, and lived on, 

Rejoicing in their strength, and happiness. 

And then our Elder Brother — he appeared ! 
Friend of the lowliest that walk the earth ! 

18 



21 Q ANTHEM. 

Friend of the mightiest that sway the skies ! 

Friend of the sorrowing and the faithfnl few, 

The broken-hearted that lie down to die, 

The myriad poor, the suckling, and the bahe, 

The fatherless and widow— Friend of all ! 

Thou that hast fashioned this great "World of ours, 

Peopling our hearts with nations ; weaving here 

Into a web of fellowship and love, 

The golden warp and woof, set thick with stars 

That make all nations one— forever one. 

Thou that givest forth, forever and forever, 

Seed time and harvest, and the early rain, 

Comfort and hope, and all that strengthens Life. 

And ail that weakens Death-Almighty Friend ! 

Help us ! help us, that we turn to Thee ! 

And overwhelmed with thankfulness, appeal, 

With him that called thee, Father ! and ourselves. 

Co-heirs with him, thine own Beloved Son, 

To that prodigious Love, that kindled Man,— 

After the stars were cast— the seraphim— 

And all the glorious Hierarchy of Heaven— 

Of giant dust, to sanctify our hope : 

To that prodigious Power that gave to him. 

As he leaped forth, dominion o'er a World, 

Self-multiplying to the end of time: 

\nd in the high companionship of her 

That nestled near his heart-a glimpse of Heaven ; 

And in the little children flowering here, 

The seedling cherubim of upper worlds. 

let us turn to thee ! Almighty God ! 

Jehoyab :-Fatiier I-Fbiend ! to thee alone I 



ANTHEM. 211 

llcmembcring our lineage and our hope 

And though dishonored, while dishonoring thee, 
Still counted there among the Sons of God ! 
0, help us Father ! and forgive Mankind ! 
That they should be so wondrous weak and blind ! 



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